


Blood's Perimeter

by Gefionne



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Slow Burn, Smuggler Kylo Ren, Stormtrooper Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 139,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11508993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne
Summary: As an illegitimate son, Hux was thrown into the First Order’s stormtrooper program as a child, in hopes that he would disappear, but he not only survives, he flourishes. When a mission goes wrong, he finds himself a target and crosses paths with Ben “Kylo” Solo, a smuggler, who is far more than he appears.





	1. Hux

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the [AU and art](http://littleststarfighter.tumblr.com/tagged/trooper-au) of littleststarfighter.

The long-range blaster was perfectly balanced and steady in his hands. Troopers with any tremors were sent to the infantry, but those with Hux’s control were dispatched to the firing ranges for five years of intensive training. The First Order needed good marksmen, and Hux was the finest among them.

Rain was pattering down on the black plasteel plates of his armor as he lay at the lip of the building’s roof. It wasn’t enough to soak him, but the hair on his uncovered head was damp. He never shot without his helmet in the daylight—his hair was too bright, too red, and would give him away—but at night, when he could retreat into the shadows, he removed it. He liked the feel of the cool, metal scope against his brow as he lined up a shot; it grounded him in the moment before he pulled the trigger.

A voice over the comm earpiece he wore: “Skyline, report. What’s the status of the target?”

Hux sighted through the scope, three hundred meters across to the residential building on the opposite side of the ten-lane street below. The third window from the right on the thirty-second floor: there was a Bith female in the central room, working on what was presumably the makeshift explosive device she would use against the Order’s staging area just outside of the city.

High command had gotten the intelligence just two cycles prior, but hadn’t hesitated in dispatching a covert operations team to take the Resistance fighters down. Hux was in charge of this team: six infantry troopers and one sniper. He had installed himself on the roof the day before, watching his target’s movements and the comings and goings of her associates. He knew she would be alone with the device tonight, and it was high time to make their move.

He replied to his team: “Target is in position. I’m ready to execute the mission. Are you prepared to infiltrate?”

“Affirmative,” said the trooper on the other end of the comm. “Awaiting your signal, Skyline.”

Hux adjusted his position, breathing out the tension that had been building in his back as he lay, unmoving, for the past three hours. He brought the butt of the blaster to his shoulder, resting the muzzle on a tripod. He disengaged the safety with a flick of his thumb, and peered through the scope. Through the red crosshairs he could see the Bith in sharp relief, down to the Resistance patch on the breast of her jacket. He might have liked to aim for that and her heart, but a headshot would be decisively fatal. He didn’t want to leave her injured for his men to deal with. This was his mission, his kill.

“Be ready to enter on my mark,” Hux said over the comm. There was no acknowledgement; his men knew better than to disturb him right before a shot.

Scoping across the distance, he sighted the Bith one last time. Her head was bent down over the object she worked on, a look of concentration on her face. She had done nothing to wrong Hux or the First Order; not yet. But he had his orders, and he had been conditioned from childhood to follow them. Exhaling, he pulled back on the trigger.

The transparisteel window was almost completely unaffected by the blaster bolt. It singed a small hole near the center, but not even rain would get through it. The Bith, though, was unrecognizable in the aftermath.

“Mark,” Hux said. He kept his eye on the apartment, waiting to see his men, in their white armor, burst through the door. But there was no movement, no entrance, nothing.

“BF-9845, report,” he said. “What is your position?”

Silence.

“I repeat: BF-9845, what is your—” Hux was cut short as someone grabbed him from behind, pulling him away from the edge of the roof and across the pea gravel surface. The plates on the front of his armor screeched as he was dragged backwards; his blaster clattered uselessly to the ground. All of the air rushed out of his lungs when the first hard kick landed in his stomach. The black sniper’s armor, softer and more flexible than standard stormtrooper’s armor, gave under the blow, surely bruising Hux’s ribs.

He curled in on himself, grabbing his middle, but managed to look up to see his attackers. He expected the Resistance—maybe they had found him out, or the entire operation had been a trap—but what he saw were the familiar masks of his men, the white of their armor.

“What—” he croaked, around the searing pain in his abdomen.

“Don’t talk,” one of the troopers said. “It’ll just make this worse for you. It’s supposed to be quick, easy. Don’t put up a fight, and we’ll have this done with.”

Hux had been told not to put up a fight before: by his father, when he had dragged him by his shirt collar out of the nursery where his baby brother had been sleeping, and told him he wasn’t needed anymore.

“Bastard boys have no place here,” Brendol had snarled. “You’re superfluous. You’ll go into the Program, and no one need hear of you again.” He had pushed Hux against the wall and sneered at him. “HX-4874. That’s what you’ll be called now. Armitage is dead.”

He hadn’t fought that day, only wept. He was no more than six when the transport came to collect him and took him to Yirium for reconditioning. They had taken his name that day, but in his mind he still held onto one part of it that his father had given him: Hux.

Letting go of his wounded middle, he slapped away the hands that were reaching for him, attempting to pull him to his feet. His father’s words ran over and over in his head: “Armitage is dead.” _Dead. Dead._ This was an attempt on his life; not the first, but the most brazen. Brendol had finally grown so desperate to be rid of his shame, his illegitimate son, that he had ordered Hux’s own men to kill him.

    Adrenaline surged through him with the realization, making it clear just how bad his odds were: six against one, and all of them armed. Hux didn’t carry a service weapon when he was on a mission, only the blade he kept in a sheath on his left thigh. He reached for it now, drawing it and slashing out at the nearest weak point: the space between plates at a trooper’s knee. The man screamed and collapsed; Hux’s blade came away red. Rolling back, Hux came up into a low crouch, knife at the ready.

“Kriff!” another of the troopers cried. “Don’t let him get away.”

One of the six went to help his wounded comrade, but the other four came at Hux with blasters drawn. When they didn’t fire, he knew this wasn’t meant to be a simple murder. They had specific instructions, likely to make it look like an accident or a slip-up in action. That gave Hux an advantage that he planned to exploit.

Glancing past the advancing troopers, he spotted the roof access door about twenty meters away. If he got past them, he could get to it and lose them on the stairs. He was faster in his blacks than they were in their armor, and if he could outrun them, he might have a chance of getting out of this alive.

“What did he offer you for this?” Hux asked, harshly. “Promotions? New postings planetside? What did Commandant Hux do to get you to kill me?”

“Shut up,” snapped one of the troopers, “and surrender. You can’t win, HX-4874.”

Hux laughed. “Surrender and go meekly to my death? You can get karked before I do that.”

He shot another look at the door, the position of the wounded trooper and his friend, and the men coming at him. Adjusting his grip on the blade, he dug his toes into the gravel and charged forward. One trooper fired, but Hux managed to duck before the bolt hit him. He sank the blade into that man’s neck, leaving it stuck there as he ran for the door. Five bolts followed him, one of them cutting into his right side. He cried out, stumbling, but pressed on until he had the handle of the door in his hand. He threw it open and clattered down the first flight of stairs.

Pain radiated from the wound on his side as he struggled down thirty-five floors. Behind him he could hear the tramping, hurried steps of the other troopers close behind. He was panting, and sweat from both exertion and fear was dripping down his back. When he reached the ground floor, he slid across the smooth tile, frantically searching for an exit. There was an emergency door just to his left, which he raced toward. The alarm blared as he opened it, but he ignored it and ran on.

“Stop! You can’t get away, HX!” the troopers called from behind him, their voices dangerously near.

Hux found himself in a narrow alley, wet with a rain that was now falling harder. He splashed through filthy puddles, fighting his way along. Once, he fell into the wall, sending searing pain up his side; he ground his teeth against it, but it did little to help.

Up ahead, he could see the flash of passing speeders. If he could get to the street, he might be able to get lost in the crowd. Lurching forward, he set off for it, but his vision began to tunnel, making the terminus of the alley seem kilometers away. Still, he surged, but he didn’t see the pothole in the pavement. He stepped right into it, catching his toe at the edge and falling down first onto his knees and then flat on his belly. He moaned as his bruised ribs were concussed again.

“Get him! Get him!”

The voices seemed muffled and far away, but the ground almost shook as their footfalls came closer. Hux was barely able to fight as they pulled him up and slammed him against the nearest wall. He wasn’t given a second before they hit him, a punch to his cheek hard enough to make his teeth rattle. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Another hit came, and then another, driving Hux’s head back against the wall until he saw white.

“Enough, enough,” he heard even through ringing ears. “He has to be recognizable when we bring him back to the ship. Just get him on his knees.” They shoved Hux down until he was kneeling, beaten head hanging. “Two shots. Clean. Make it look like the Resistance executed him, just like we’re supposed to.”

Hux kept his eyes open, even as he felt the pressure of a blaster barrel against his head. At least it would be, as they said, clean. _Fuck you, Father_. He waited for the darkness, but instead he heard a cry and the _crack_ of plasteel against metal. The blaster at the back of his head disappeared, and he looked up.

The four troopers were scrambling to shoot at a fifth figure among them: large, shadowed, and wielding a small blaster with deadly accuracy. He caught the first of the troopers in the chest, knocking him back and killing him instantly. The next was on the receiving end of a kick to the side of the knee, surely detaching the kneecap. He wailed as he went down. The third trooper was backing away, firing as fast as he could, but the man never wavered. Hux was delirious with pain, but he thought he even saw two of the bolts stop mid-air and fizzle out as if they hadn’t been there at all.

The fourth trooper dropped his blaster to hold up his fists. So that was YT-2386, the hand-to-hand specialist in the team. He charged at the man and nearly got in a blow, but he was countered deftly and knocked onto his back, before the man put a bolt through his helmet. The others were lying on the wet ground, some making noises of hurt, while others were deathly silent.

Hux knelt where they had left him, aching and battered. He could barely see around his swollen eyes, but when a pair of boots came to rest just in front of him, he ventured a look up to see the man who had, inexplicably and capably, fought off four of the First Order’s finest stormtroopers.

He saw dark hair hanging loose around a long face, pronounced chin. The nose was straight and narrow, the mouth wide and lips slightly parted as the stranger breathed through them. He was staring down at Hux with concern in his eyes; it was too dark to make out their color.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice muted as if he spoke through a fog. “Can you speak?”

Hux wasn't sure that he could, but he managed, “Yes.”

The gloved man set one hand on his hip, where he wore a leather blaster belt. “Yes to one or to both?”

Hux, fuzzy-headed, ran back through what he had been asked. “Yes, I can speak,” he said, “but no, I am not okay.”

“Yeah, you don't look it,” said the man. “You'll have to tell me what you did to get on the wrong side of _four_ stormtroopers, but let's get you patched up first.” Leaning down, he got one arm under Hux’s and began to hoist him up.

Hux winced. His whole body was raw and abused, and he couldn't decide what hurt the most: the lacerations on his face, the creaking ribs, or the blaster wound in his side. He could only imagine what he looked like to this man, to whom he now owed his life.

“I can't go with you,” Hux said, even as he wrapped his arm around the man’s waist to steady himself. According to the mission parameters, he was to report back to the extraction point at 2300 hours, when the operation was complete. Every part of his conditioning told him that that was what he needed to do, even if the troopers—his men—had just tried to kill him.

In the past, when there had been a series of accidents that should have killed him, he had simply survived and reported back for his next assignment. But this instance was different; Brendol had never gone far enough to attempt a direct assassination. Now, Hux wasn't certain he could go back and resume his duty, not when he knew for certain that his father, a member of the senior command, wanted him dead. The First Order was no longer safe for him.

His stomach dropped with that weight. He had lived in the Stormtrooper Program for twenty-eight of this thirty-four years, and he knew nothing beyond it. Not appearing at the extraction point would constitute desertion. If he were ever caught, he would be put to death anyway. In some way, it made more sense to go back to his life and await death there rather than run until he was found and executed.

“I can't go with you,” he said again, this time planting his feet and resisting his rescuer’s hold on him. “Let me go.”

The man paused. “If I let you go, you'll collapse. You can hardly walk.”

Hux pushed against him, finding him very solid. “I have to report back to…” He hesitated, uncertain what this man’s loyalties were. It could be highly unwise to inform him that he, too, was with the First Order. “I just have to get somewhere.”

“Yeah,” the man said, “to a medbay.” Taking hold of Hux more firmly, he pulled him along, forcing Hux to walk or be dragged. “We’ll see about getting you where you need to go, but first I've got to stop this bleeding, or you're going to faint.”

“No hospitals,” Hux said. Public medical facilities asked for identification, and Hux didn't have that. He was HX-4874.

“Fine,” was the reply. “I've got bacta and some basic first aid supplies on my ship.”

Hux tried once again to stop. “I can't leave the planet. I have to get back—”

“I know,” said the man. “I won't take you anywhere you don't want to go. Well, except to the _Falcon,_ to get you treated before you bleed to death.”

Woozy as he was, Hux wasn't really in a position to refuse. He needed to get his bearings before he could even try to locate the extraction point. Resigned, he leaned into his rescuer and let himself be half-carried down the alley.

“What's your name?” the man asked him as they stepped out onto a mostly empty side street.

The number was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back down, forcing out: “Hux.”

“Hux,” the man repeated. “I like that. I’m Kylo. I, uh, wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“Yes,” said Hux. “Kylo.”

It was an unusual name, and wasn't easily identifiable as coming from one part of the galaxy or another. His accent was a mix of Inner and Outer Rim, which Hux couldn't place, either. His native language was Basic, or at least he spoke it without non-native hesitation. As far as Hux knew, though, he could be anyone.

“It's not far to my ship,” Kylo said as he navigated around a surly-looking Bothan making his way down the sidewalk. The Bothan eyed them, but said nothing about Hux’s state or the blood that was smeared across Kylo’s shirt where he held Hux against him. “This isn’t a good part of town. No security. The perfect place to get jumped. Is that what happened?”

“Stormtroopers don’t just attack civilians,” said Hux, terse. “At least not unless it’s under orders.”

“So, they were _told_ to beat you half to death?” Kylo asked.

Hux didn’t answer, having no reason to disclose anything about himself or his circumstances. He needed to get his wounds seen to, and then leave as soon as possible. A niggling at the back of his mind, though, warned him that life debts did not go unpaid.

Nothing was free among stormtroopers. Though they were not paid in currency, there was a trade economy that thrived in the ranks. Favors were done, but payment was always expected, whether that was in the form of another service or something more lascivious. Hux had always kept to himself, and had never had cause to owe one of the other troopers anything, but there was no denying that he would have to offer something to Kylo in exchange for what he had done. But he didn’t have anything, save for his body, ravaged as it was, and his skills as a sniper. If Kylo didn’t want either of those, Hux would have to find another way, and that might take longer than the few minutes, maybe an hour, that they had before Hux was due to appear at the extraction point.

“Well, whatever happened,” Kylo continued; he talked a great deal, “at least I was there.”

Hux conceded to that, but it wasn’t just anyone who could take on four expertly-trained stormtroopers, single-handed, for the sake of a stranger. No one that Hux had ever known would do that. “Do you make a habit of killing First Order soldiers?” he asked. “Just walking down the street waiting for the opportunity?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kylo said. “All the time.” There was a wryness to his tone that told Hux he was joking, but beneath it was a razor-thin trace of admission. He adjusted his hold on Hux, making him hiss. “Kriff, I’m sorry. We’re almost there.”

They had entered the shipping district, where there were landing pads for transports and freighters. A good deal of them were empty at this time of night, but there were three in a row that were occupied. Kylo led them to the first, where a YT-model freighter was docked. Hux didn’t know a great deal about spacecraft, but it was clear this one was nearly an antique.

When they were standing under the belly, Kylo typed in a code on a keypad and the loading ramp began to descend. A jet of condensed air shot down in front of Hux, making him start and tighten his hold on Kylo’s waist.

“You’re all right,” Kylo said. It was meant to soothe, but Hux’s temper flared; he didn’t need to be coddled.

The ramp struck the duracrete of the landing pad with a heavy _thud_ , and immediately Kylo began to draw Hux up into the ship. They went through the empty cargo hold and into narrow passages lined with yellow illuminators. The falls of their boots sounded hollow, as if there was space beneath the grated floor. Hux tried to commit the layout of the ship to memory, in case he needed to make a hasty escape, but it all blurred together in a haze of hurt and lingering disorientation.

They stopped, at last, in the main living compartment, where there was a semicircular bench seat upholstered in a fading orange and a small, round table set for dejarik. Kylo brought Hux to the bench and lowered him onto it. Hux hunched over, relieved to be off of his feet, but made sharply aware of all the places from which pain was radiating in red-hot pulses.

“Stay here,” Kylo said. “I’ve got to go get the first aid kit.”

Hux grunted, watching him disappear around the corner to find what he needed. Hux peeled back the synth-leather of his gloves while he waited. He put them to the side and ventured to touch his wound, gasping as he slid his fingers past the ruined armor and grazed the broken edges of his skin. It would take a great deal more than a field bacta patch to heal the gash; likely sutures, which would mean a medical droid. Unless Kylo had medic’s training, which Hux doubted. He needed to get to the extraction point and back to the First Order for proper treatment.

“Here we go,” said Kylo, coming back into the living space with a small case in his hand. The fingers were sleek and metal, not skin at all, and Hux thought he had imagined it until he took a seat next to him and lifted the lid with his other hand, which was very much flesh and blood.

The kit was a basic one: bacta patches, bandages, stims, and, thankfully, two syringes of painkillers. Hux pointed to one and said, “That first.”

Kylo picked up one of the syringes and grabbed for Hux’s upper arm. It was armored still, so Hux tugged it out of Kylo’s grip, snatching the syringe with his other hand. Quickly, and over Kylo’s surprised protests, he injected the painkillers into his neck. The relief was immediate. The drugs flooded his system with each pump of his heart, clearing his head some and making it possible to see clearly again. When Kylo laid a hand on his side, there was only a dull throb of pain.

“You need to take this all off,” Kylo said. “I can’t get to the wound like this.” He reached for the clasps at the back of Hux’s neck, but Hux pulled away.

“No,” Hux said sharply. “Just give me some bacta gel.” That, at least, would heal the broken vessels and stanch the flow of fresh blood. It could get him where he needed to go.

“All right, fine,” Kylo grumbled, retrieving a tube about the length of his hand from the kit and breaking the seal on the cap. He wasn’t foolish enough to try to apply it, as he had tried to inject Hux, instead handing it over and allowing Hux to do it himself.

The gel was cool on Hux’s bare hand, where he squeezed out a generous amount. He pushed it through the hole in his armor, spreading it over the wound with his forefingers. The gel and blood left smears of thick red on his hand as he pulled it free. When Kylo offered him a towel, he took it and wiped himself clean.

“You need some for your face,” said Kylo. He gave Hux a stern look. “You’ll have to let me do that. You can’t see where the cuts are.”

Hux begrudgingly handed the tube over and tipped his chin up to permit Kylo to smooth the gel over the cuts and bruises. It would take care of the worst of the swelling and seal up any small wounds that had opened. He knew there was one on his lip, which Kylo dabbed at gently as he applied the gel. Hux noted that he used his left hand, not the artificial right one.

Looking up at his face, Hux saw that his skin was dotted with small, dark moles and that his eyes were brown. He bit down on his lower lip, with slightly crooked front teeth, as he worked. A strand of hair slipped down in front of his eye, but he didn’t pause to push it back until he was done with Hux’s face.

“There,” he said, sounded duly satisfied. “I think you’ve probably looked better, and you’ll be shades of purple tomorrow, but the swelling’s going down already.”

The words were strange on his tongue, but Hux said, “Thank you.”

Kylo flashed him a grin. “You’re welcome. Now, you should lie down and get some rest.”

Hux shook his head. “I can’t. I have to go. I’m expected.”

“Like hell you are,” said Kylo, expression darkening again. “You’ve got to take it easy for a minute and let the bacta work.”

Hux knew that, but he had no other choice. The chronometer on his wrist already read 2230. “I appreciate your help, Kylo,” he said, “but this isn’t negotiable. I have to leave.” Pressing his hands down into the upholstery of the bench, he started to rise. His vision went immediately grey around the edges, and his head swam, leaving him to fall back hard against the backrest of the seats.

“Easy, easy,” said Kylo, laying his hands on Hux’s shoulders to keep him in place. “You’re a mess, Hux. You can’t go anywhere.”

“I have to,” Hux mumbled, though he could feel the will and the ability to get up swiftly ebbing away. He was struggling to keep himself conscious, and realized, with dismay, that the painkillers had had sedatives in them. There was no way to get to the extraction point now; his eyelids were already sinking.

He felt himself being laid back onto the seats, but could do nothing to stop it. Before he passed out, he heard Kylo say, “Just sleep. You’re safe.” Hux was convinced he had never been less so in his life.

 

* * *

 

The ride in a troop transport was never a smooth one. Coming down through atmo shook the entire shuttle, jostling the men inside as they hung onto the narrow straps bolted to the ceiling. Hux felt himself in one now, being jostled along. But when he cracked his eyes open, he didn’t see the familiar ranks of white-helmeted troopers. The world was tilted to the side, and Hux’s head pounded as he tried to discover where he was.

The passageway was narrow and constructed of silver durasteel; there was a large viewport to the right, a planet visible outside. Forcing his head up, he tried to get a better look.

“Don’t struggle,” said someone nearby, “or I’ll drop you.”

Hux turned his face up, his blurry vision clearing to reveal Kylo. Hux was in his arms, being carried along the passageway. “Put me down!” he demanded, struggling just as Kylo had told him not to. “I can walk.”

Kylo’s grip tightened, pulling him closer to his chest. “Take it easy; I’m trying to help you. You were passed out cold. What was I supposed to do, sit around until you woke up?”

“I’m awake now,” Hux snapped, “so put me karking down.” He felt the rumble of Kylo’s laugh as much as he heard it, and it rankled him. He despised being the butt of anyone’s joke.

“You’re feisty, I’ll give you that,” Kylo said. “But shut up and stay still for now. We’re almost there.”

Hux made a last twisting attempt to free himself, but when Kylo jostled him again to keep his hold, he gave up. He kept his head up, though, surveying his surroundings. They were no longer on the grungy freighter, but somewhere clean and sleek. The planet outside the viewport was too verdant to be Utel Gamma, where Kylo had picked him up.

“Where are we?” he asked, with less venom than before.

“Somewhere safe,” Kylo replied, “and hidden. Whoever is after you isn’t going to find you here.”

Hux figured that was true. Since neither he nor any of his men had appeared at the extraction point—unless, maybe, the wounded one and his comrade had found their way there—they were likely presumed dead. A search team would be dispatched, and would find the bodies of the others. Without Hux’s, he would be declared missing-in-action. That would surely disappoint his father (with no body to bury), if not his commanding officer, who had liked having him in his unit for the bragging rights. Hux’s record was impeccable.

“Are we even in the Outer Rim anymore?” he said as they crossed the threshold into a larger room: a furnished living space.

“We are,” said Kylo, “just on the other side from where we were.”

He bore Hux across the room—past a sofa and upholstered chairs around a table that seemed to spring up from the floor itself, past a kitchen that Hux could just see beyond a dividing wall—to another hallway, this one lined with doors. Kylo went to the one at the end and, angling Hux down, pressed the button beside it with his silver right thumb. The door hissed open, revealing sleeping quarters: a single cot against the wall and an adjoining refresher. Kylo went over to the cot and set Hux down on it, as if he were something delicate. Hux scowled at him, going immediately to stand.

“Stars, you’re difficult,” Kylo said, setting his hands on Hux’s shoulders and pushing him, none too gently, back onto the cot. “You’re barely holding together. Sit down and let me help you.” When it seemed that Hux wasn’t going to fight him, he backed off, going to the comm unit on the wall. “2-1H, will you come down here? I need a hand.”

Hux tensed. He hadn’t considered that there were others in this place, even if it seemed large enough to house them. But he couldn’t deny that he needed a medic, if that was who Kylo was summoning.

“You should get out of that armor,” said Kylo as he turned back to Hux. “1H will be able to get you stitched up, but it’s got to see the damage.”

Ah, a surgical droid, then; that was better. Hux shifted to the edge of the cot, but paused, eyeing Kylo. “I have to get up to do that. Are you going to stop me again?”

One side of Kylo’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “No, but I _am_ going to help you.”

“I can undress myself,” Hux grumbled, rising unsteadily to his feet.

Kylo took a sauntering step toward him, looking him over from boots to mussed red hair. “Maybe, but who doesn’t like it when someone else does it for you?”

Hux’s brow creased with suspicion. Nakedness was common in the gang sonics in the troopers’ quarters, so he had no qualms about that, but the innuendo made him wary. He had been approached by other troopers like this before, but he had never permitted any of them to touch him.

Seeing his expression, Kylo stopped. “Just a joke,” he said. “I’ll go if you want me to. 1H will be here in a couple of minutes.”

“No,” said Hux. “I can barely move without opening the wound again. I could use you.”

Kylo’s smile appeared once more. “Watch what you say. I might like being used.”

Hux pursed his lips, displeased and not knowing what to make of the teasing, suggestive tone Kylo seemed to be able to pick up and drop at will. “Just come undo these clasps,” Hux said.

Kylo came around behind him and released the fastenings at the neck of his armor, letting the cool, recirculated air prickle his skin.

“This is a space station of some kind,” he said as Kylo undid the clasps of the breast- and backplates. “What world are we orbiting?”

“Ryden 2,” Kylo said, lifting the plates away and setting them on the floor.

Hux glanced down at the hole in the right side of the thick base-layer under the armor. The fabric was singed and caked with dried blood. He pulled at it gently, wincing as it stuck to the skin.

“We should soak that off,” said Kylo. “We’ll do the rest and then get you into the shower.”

Hux’s brows shot up. “You have water-based showers here?” He had never actually had the opportunity to use one; the troopers were permitted only sonics.

“Mmhm,” Kylo hummed, stooping to remove Hux’s greaves. “It’s recirc, but it’s good. I had the filters retrofitted about six months ago, Ryden time. You can get as clean as you want. Take two showers a day.”

Hux wasn’t used to indulging himself, but the prospect of a cool shower in the morning and a hot one at night was almost too good to pass up. Still, he asked, “That doesn’t take away from the reserves for everyone else here?”

“You mean me?” Kylo chuckled. “There’s enough for both of us.” He put the greaves aside, starting in on Hux’s boots. “There’s nobody else here. It’s kind of a stopover place. People come sometimes, but they always go.”

Hux lifted his right foot out of the boot Kylo had unlaced, setting his socked foot on the chilly durasteel of the floor. “You don’t live here, then?”

Kylo slid the discarded boot across to the wall, where it struck with a _thunk_. “Well, I guess you could say I do. I bunk here when I’m not working.”

Hux ventured the question: “What do you do?”

“Transport mostly,” Kylo said, peeking up to meet Hux’s eyes before holding his boot down so he could pull his left foot out. “You saw my ship. She’s a freighter. I run from here almost all the way to the Unknown Regions.”

The trade routes in the Unknown Regions were controlled almost exclusively by the First Order, and those merchants and traders they contracted with were larger, cartel-run enterprises whose silence could be bought. For an organization that had scraped by on the scraps of the old Empire at its founding, the Order had quadrupled its funds under Supreme Leader Snoke. They could afford to pay the cartels without even dipping into their reserves, or so Hux had once heard a pair of talkative officers say.

Looking down at Kylo, Hux said, incredulously, “A single man operating a transport can afford an orbital station of his own?” Hux was satisfied to see him hesitate as he stood again.

“I’m a good businessman,” Kylo said, cagey. Hux had a dismissive remark on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back down as Kylo added, “Come on, the shower’s through here. Might want to take off your socks, though.”

Hux shucked them, leaving them crumpled on the floor as he followed Kylo into the refresher. It wasn’t overlarge, but the shower cubicle was far more spacious than the sonics Hux was used to. He stopped at the center of the room as he caught sight of himself in the mirror: his face was dark with bruises, which a topical application of bacta couldn’t handle; he would have to be injected with it, or let them heal in their own time.

“Don’t worry,” said Kylo as he turned on the shower, “you’ll still be pretty when 1H gets done with you.”

Hux’s attention was drawn immediately from his reflection to the soft patter of water on steel. It had a different sound than rain: more determined and pointed; he had never heard anything like it. Approaching cautiously, he took in the spray from the showerhead attached to the wall. He reached out, slow and tentative, and put his hand into it. The water was warm, nearly making him sigh.

“You should probably take off your pants,” Kylo said from beside him. “Looks like you’ll never get out of them if they get wet.”

Hux pulled his hand back, woken. “All right.” The skin-tight material of his base-layer was easy to slide down his legs and kick away, leaving him bare from the waist down. He noticed that Kylo had gone away, and was standing across the room with his back to him, busying himself with a stack of white towels. Hux trained his gaze back on the shower and, spreading his toes in anticipation, stepped under the water.

Heat and wet poured over his body, soaking immediately into his shirt and plastering his hair to his skull. The water running over his wound made it sting anew, but Hux disregarded it; this was as near to bliss as he had ever come. He turned his face up into the spray, letting it wash over his bruises.

“Give it a couple of minutes before you try to take your shirt off,” he heard Kylo say over the splash of the water. “Just let it soak.”

Hux turned his injured side into the direct flow from the showerhead, clenching his teeth against the pain. “For a man in ‘transport,’ you know a great deal about treating wounds.”

“A few things, I guess,” said Kylo, a shrug in his voice. “I’ve hauled merchandise for mercs before. I paid attention.”

“Mercenaries,” Hux mused, affecting wonder. “That must have been dangerous.” He himself had learned early how incompetent most Outer Rim mercs were. His first tactical team—six men fresh out of training—had put down a group of twenty without even breathing hard. Kylo didn’t need to know that, however.

“I didn’t fight them,” Kylo said. “I just brought their weapons from one planet to another. But not everyone could handle that kind of work.”

Hux gave a contemptuous snort, which was fortunately masked by the shower. “No doubt,” he said.

There was a pause, but then: “Is that what you are? A merc?”

“Of a sort,” Hux replied. He glanced out through the frosted plas of the cubicle, spotting Kylo’s blurry form against the wall across from the shower.

“Specific,” Kylo said, sardonic. “Fine, I get it; you can’t tell me. I’ll just make up a story.” Hux cocked a brow, though he knew Kylo couldn’t see it. Kylo continued, thoughtfully, “Let’s see. You’re a captain in the Hutt merc force, sent to Utel Gamma to shake down a glitterstim dealer who was cutting himself too big a share of the profits.”

“My,” Hux deadpanned, “how did you guess all that?”

“Hush,” Kylo said. “I’m not done. I see now...everything was going according to plan, and the dealer was about to give up his stash, but then the First Order stormtroopers showed up. The dealer was in league with them the whole time! He was funnelling the extra credits to their operations.”

He wasn’t far off in that, actually. Hux’s team had once been sent to collect the profits from just such an operation. The Order was, if anything, resourceful.

“What happened next?” Hux asked, earnestly curious to see where Kylo’s imagination would take them.

“Well, of course, the secret was out, so the troopers killed the dealer, and then came for you. No loose ends. But you ran. I bet you’re quick, with those long legs of yours. I don’t quite know how they managed to catch you—maybe you didn’t know the city and got turned around in that alley—but they did. And, uh, they decided to rough you up before they put a bolt in your head. But before they could, a tall, devilishly handsome stranger who was quick on the trigger came out of the shadows to save your life.”

Despite himself, Hux smiled just slightly. “You think very highly of yourself.”

“Hey,” Kylo said, sounding affronted, “I _did_ save your life. The least you can do is tell me I’m good-looking and good with my blaster. And brave. Put brave in there for good measure.”

Sobering, Hux said, “You did. Why?” Through the plas, he saw Kylo move from the side of the room to where the mirror was. He appeared to be leaning on the sink below it.

“I’m not just going to stand by and watch someone get shot in the back of the head,” he said, quieter than before.

“What if I had deserved it?” Hux asked. “What if I’m the drug dealer in your story, selling glitterstim to children on the street?”

“Drug dealers don’t wear high-end duraplas armor in ‘Stealth Operative Black.’ You’re a soldier; that much I know.”

Hux licked his wet lips, unable to find a way to deny it. He was turning lies over in his mind as quickly as possible, but before he could decide on one, Kylo spoke again: “The blood should be loosened up by now. Try it.”

Taking the hem of his shirt between his thumb and forefingers, Hux began to lift it away from the wound. The material gave this time, coming up from the skin without sticking painfully. As he stretched up to lift the shirt over his head, the wound pulled and stung; a rivulet of red trickled down his waist and over his hip.

“Is that surgical droid here?” he said, dropping the sodden shirt at his feet.

“It’s outside,” Kylo replied. “Are you bleeding again?”

“Yes.”

The word had just left his mouth when Kylo, holding a towel, appeared around the corner of the cubicle. Ignoring the still-running water, he stepped close to it and shut it off before sweeping the towel around Hux’s shoulders. “Come on,” he said, ushering him out of the refresher.

“Master Kylo,” said the droid standing next to the cot when they got back into the bedroom. It was squat, with a single wheel to move around on. Its head was anthropomorphic, but the body was round and drum-like. Two clamp-like “hands” jutted out from its sides. “Is this the patient?”

“Yes,” Kylo said. “His name is Hux, and he’s been shot.” Still holding Hux by the shoulders, he guided him to the cot. Before Hux could say anything to the contrary, Kylo pulled the towel away and wrapped it around his waist. “Sit.”

Hux did as he was told, sinking down onto the mattress. As soon as Kylo moved away, the droid was there, clucking over his wound.

“No, no,” it said, “this isn’t good at all. You poor young man.” The clamps whirred into different, more precise tools.

Hux fought not to flinch; he had always hated medical treatment. As a sniper, he was removed from the proper battlefield and was rarely injured. This was, in fact, that most severe wound he had ever sustained.

“Well,” the droid narrated, “at least someone thought to stop the worst of the bleeding with bacta. You must be very clever, Master Hux.”

“Very,” Hux grumbled. Across the room, Kylo huffed a laugh.

Moving in, the droid brandished a syringe. “Just a little prick, now, and then you won’t feel a thing.” It injected him with anesthetic near the wound, and almost instantly the dull ache faded. “Best not watch this part, unless you’re curious about surgery.”

“No,” Hux said, turning his head away. He heard the meaty _clunk_ of the staples puncturing his skin to close the wound and felt a little sick.

“All done!” the droid said, all too cheerfully. “Now just bacta gel and a nice, fluffy bandage and you’ll be as good as new.” It paused, looking up at Hux’s face. “Well, another little shot of bacta, a few hours, and _then_ you’ll be—”

“He knows, 1H,” said Kylo. “Just finish up with that, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Hux glanced at him, surprised. With a perfectly good droid to handle the dressing of his smaller cuts, he couldn’t imagine why Kylo would want to do the work himself. Hux certainly wouldn’t have done it.

The bandage the droid placed over Hux’s side was square and clean. 1H sealed it tightly against his skin, saying, “Leave this on for tonight, but you can take it off when you bathe tomorrow. Let the wound air for a few minutes— _don’t_ towel-dry it—and then put another bandage on.” It added, in a sour voice, “I’m sure Master Kylo can help you if you need it.”

“All right,” Hux said.

1H gave a curt, mechanical nod, before producing another syringe. “This one is for your face. It might sting a bit, but—”

Hux tipped his chin down, offering his cheek. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

There were three short pricks, a feeling of fullness under his skin, and then nothing. When the droid was finished, it wheeled back. “Very good, Master Hux. I prescribe a good night’s rest now.”

“Thanks, 1H,” said Kylo, before Hux could reply. “You can go.”

“You’ll be needing these, Master Kylo,” the droid said, offering a packet of bacta and a few smaller bandages. “You know where I am.” Making what Hux could only describe as a huffy departure, it disappeared through the door.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Kylo said. “He doesn’t get to see much use these days, so he was pretty excited to get the opportunity to fix up a real injury.”

Hux, amused, waved him off. “I can manage the others by myself. You needn’t bother.”

Kylo sat down on the cot beside him, reaching for his upper arm, where there was a short, shallow cut that Hux hadn’t noticed. “It’s not a problem. It’s just this one, and then you can get some sleep.”

Admittedly, Hux was exhausted, but he couldn’t imagine sleeping here, unguarded. When he was on a mission, he closed his eyes for a few minutes at a time to keep himself sharp, but he never truly slept until he was back in his bunk on the _Finalizer_. While he had been told Kylo’s station was safe, his habits were going to be difficult to fight.

Kylo’s hands were soft on his shoulder, applying a thin layer of bacta before covering the scratch—that’s all it was—with a bandage. “That’s it then,” he said. “ _Good as new_.” Hux laughed weakly, and Kylo grinned at him. “Let me go find you something to wear to sleep. Most of my clothes will be too big for you, but it’s just for sleeping, right?”

“I don’t need them,” said Hux. “I’m accustomed to sleeping nude.”

Kylo’s brows rose. “Oh, really? Interesting. Well, suit yourself, but I’m going to get you some pants, at least. For the morning.” He got up, standing over Hux, who remained seated. He was very broad across the shoulders, and his light grey shirt—stained with Hux’s blood—was pulled taut across his chest. “Devilishly handsome” might have been too generous, but he was striking.

“What happened to your arm?” Hux asked, eyeing the flash of silver at his side.

Kylo lifted the prosthetic right hand, curling the fingers in toward his palm and then out again. “An accident when I was a kid.” He rolled his sleeve up a few centimeters more, revealing more of the well-crafted metal.

“It’s cybernetic, I assume,” said Hux. “Custom-fitted.”

“That’s right,” Kylo said. “I had to go to the Core to get it made, but I’ve learned to tune it up myself when I have to.” He rubbed his bicep. “Goes all the way up to the shoulder.”

Curious, Hux stood. “May I see it?”

Kylo gave him a look, but nodded. “Sure.” With both hands, he pulled the hem of his shirt out from the waist of his pants and tugged it off over his head. He wore a white undershirt beneath it, the thick straps over his shoulders baring the place where the silver arm met his skin.

Hux came a half a step closer, cocking his head to the side as he studied the way the metal was almost ribbed, each section a joint, to allow Kylo a full range of motion, perhaps even more than a blood-and-bone arm would permit.

“You can touch,” said Kylo, “if you want to.”

Gently, Hux laid a hand on the upper section of the arm; it was cool to the touch. “Can you feel anything?”

Kylo rolled his wrist, making the cybernetic muscles throughout his arm flex under Hux’s palm. “The hand has tactile sensors, so I can still pick things up without dropping them, but the rest is just metal. I can’t feel your hand, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Fascinating,” Hux said, drawing back. “How often does it need to be serviced?”

“Full of questions, aren’t you?” Kylo chuckled. But he answered, “One or twice a standard year. I just take it off and run a software upgrade, lubricate the joints. Nothing really impressive. If I ever really damaged it, I’d have to take it back to Hosnian Prime to get it repaired. I’m only _so_ good with tech.”

Hux wasn’t particularly good with it, either, but it was interesting to him. “It must have cost a great deal.”

Kylo shrugged. “A bit, but I take good care of it, for the most part. It was pretty easy to carry you with it, too. You’re heavier than you look.” At Hux’s frown, he flashed a grin. “Done looking? I’ll go get you those pants.” Turning, shirt in hand, he left the room.

Hux stared at the door that shut behind him, left alone in the silence. On the _Finalizer_ , if it was quiet enough, he could hear the humming of the drive core. The station, though, was soundless, relying on the planet’s gravity to stay in orbit rather than core power. The First Order had a few stations like this one, but far larger and very crowded. The Imperial exiles who had founded the Order had taken their repopulation duties very seriously, and with the advent of the Stormtrooper Program, thousands of children had been recruited to fill the ships and stations.

The officers were fewer and came almost exclusively from Imperial stock, carrying on their parents’ legacies in a new military. At the head of the Order’s ever-growing forces was the youngest general ever to lead them: Brendol Hux II, the brother for whom young Armitage had been cast aside to make way for. His mother was their father’s wife, not a kitchen girl the commandant had dallied with for a few months, so he was the one to bear the family name and rise through the ranks to the top of the Order. Armitage was given a number and put where no one would find him. And even if he did venture to tell the truth, which he never had, he wouldn’t have been believed.

He had been bitter as a teenager, watching his brother advance and win the favor of Supreme Leader Snoke, but those feelings had long passed by the time he finished his special operations training. He lived for marksmanship, and couldn’t imagine a life without his blaster rifle in his hands. His brother may command thousands, but he never learned to shoot outside of a simulator, never felt the rush of a shot landing perfectly between the eyes. Hux was content where he was.

_Had been._

He was a deserter now, unable to return to the Order. He had lost his rifle, and his armor was piled in the corner of the room, discarded and unlikely to be used again. He might have escaped with his life, but his father had taken his purpose, and that, he thought, could almost be worse.

The door hissed opened again, admitting Kylo. “Here,” he said, holding out a pair of folded black trousers. “These shouldn’t fall off.”

Hux took them, feeling the soft fabric. It would be the first item of clothing he had worn as an adult that wasn’t standard-issue.

“I’ll go now,” said Kylo. “If you need anything, I’m the first door on the left. Knock hard.” He backed away two steps, gave a small wave with his silver hand, and then went out.

He was gone before Hux even realized he hadn’t thanked him. That was if a simple phrase would even begin to repay the life debt that Hux now owed, which it wouldn’t. Among the troopers, if you saved someone else’s life, they would owe you a great deal of favors. Those ranged from cleaning blasters and armor for a year to giving up recreation hours or submitting to any physical demand that they had.

Upon entering the Program, every trooper was given an infertility vaccination—reversible—and conditioned to control sexual appetites. The vaccination was completely effective, but the conditioning was not. It was difficult for even the First Order’s best behavioral scientists to control the human urges to fight and fuck. Fortunately, the Program’s mixed-gender barracks and frequent combat situations allowed for both.

Debts among the troopers were often paid in the form of sex, as it was easy to come by and universally enjoyed. Hux had known a man who had been rescued during a drop by a young woman, and to repay her, he had taken care of her gear for months and shared her bed for even longer. Hux remembered listening to their barely-muffled grunts of pleasure while he tried to sleep. He had been relieved when the man’s debt was cleared, only to find out that they intended to continue the arrangement anyway. Not all sex was in exchange for something, after all.

Hux had never been in a position to owe anyone anything, having taken care of himself on the battlefield and off, but things were different now. If he had to start paying Kylo back, he might as well do it tonight, offering himself first and negotiating other methods the next day. Dropping the towel from around his waist, he pulled on the trousers and padded out into the hallway, going to the first door on the left. He knocked hard.

There wasn’t a response right away, and Hux considered that Kylo might already be sleeping, but it hadn’t been more than a few minutes. He didn’t bother to raise his fist to knock again, instead just pressing the button next to the door and hoping it wasn’t locked. He heard a click, and then the door slid open.

Kylo’s bedroom was twice the size of Hux’s, and instead of a wall at the far side, there was a massive viewport, displaying Ryden 2 below. Kylo was seated on the floor in front of it, his legs crossed and his hands resting on his knees. His eyes were closed. Hux, barefoot, crept into the room, going to him cautiously. Kylo still didn’t open his eyes, even as Hux came to stand right before him, less than half a pace away.

He seemed perfectly serene, his face lax and blank, breathing steady. A meditation, perhaps? Hux had heard that some entered a state of unawareness when they meditated, completely inside their own heads, but he hadn’t believed it was possible to completely shut oneself off from outside stimuli. It was too dangerous, too, for a soldier.

Slowly, knees creaking, Hux knelt in front of him. With his right hand, he brushed Kylo’s jaw, but he still didn’t move. Puzzled, but determined, Hux cupped his cheek, and, leaning in, whispered, “Thank you,” as he kissed his lips. Kylo’s eyes flew open immediately, wide and bright with astonishment. Hux kept his mouth against his, unsure how to proceed—he had never done this before—but unwilling to relent until Kylo responded. Slipping his hands around Kylo’s shoulders, he crawled into his lap and wrapped his legs around his waist. Kylo made an “mm” sound as he took hold of Hux’s hips, steadying him. Taking that for encouragement, Hux pressed closer, kissed harder. He wasn’t expecting it when Kylo pulled back.

“Hey,” Kylo said, his face still very close to Hux’s. “Hey, stop a second. You’re a little, ah, _frisky_ for someone who almost died. What’s this all about?”

Hux held his gaze, confused and a little irritated at the question. It was obvious enough. “You don’t want it?” he asked.

Kylo blinked once, adjusting his grip on Hux so that he was holding him by the buttocks. “If you really want to kiss me, I’m not going to stop you, but—”

Hux took the opportunity and moved in again, silencing Kylo with his lips. This time Kylo’s mouth was softer, more receptive. With minute movements, he got Hux to relax into it, too, until the emphasis was not on intensity but exploration. Hux understood kisses to be a prelude to the rest, and there was no denying that his body’s interest was piqued by the softness of Kylo’s mouth and the inquisitive swipes of his tongue against the seam of his lips. Hux was surprised, but not unpleasantly, when he parted them, and Kylo slid inside.

Hux’s pulse jumped, blood flowing strongly through his veins and down to his cock. Spurred by the sensation, he clung to Kylo, pushing his own tongue against his. Kylo turned his head to change the angle, and their noses brushed. Strangely, Hux liked that feeling just as much as the kisses, which resumed right away. One hand cupping Hux’s buttock, Kylo moved the other to his side to pull him even closer. As he squeezed, Hux spasmed, in sudden pain.

“ _Shit,”_ Kylo swore, yanking his hand away from Hux’s wound. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“It’s all right,” said Hux. Fingers at the back of Kylo’s neck, he tried to steer him back into a kiss.

Kylo resisted. “Wait. This is a little crazy. An hour ago you were barely conscious, and now you’re...like this. We should dial this back a notch.”

Hux slid his hands down Kylo’s chest to where his shirt hung by his belt. This was necessary, but now Hux was interested in it; he wanted to continue. “We might as well start now.”

Kylo’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Start _what?”_ he said.

“Paying my debt,” Hux replied. “You saved my life. That can’t go unpaid.”

“You think you owe me... _this_...for _that?”_ Kylo stammered, gaze darting over Hux’s face, as if he didn’t comprehend in the least.

Hux’s brows knit in consternation. “Yes. Unless you don’t want me.” Part of him was disappointed at that thought.

Kylo blew out a breath. “Well, I don’t _not_ want you, but I don’t _expect_ you to sleep with me, if that’s what this is.”

“You don’t?” Hux asked.

“No!” Kylo exclaimed, taking him by the shoulders and easing him back so that there was some distance between them, though Hux still sat in his lap. “Of course not. You don’t owe me anything, especially not this. Unless you want it.” He shook his head. “But even if you do, this isn’t the time. I mean, is this how it works where you come from?”

“Mostly.”

“ _Stars_ ,” said Kylo. “I, uh, well, where I come from, it isn’t. So, don’t think you have to do anything, okay? Here, just hang on.”

Taking a hold of Hux’s thighs, he started to get to his feet. Hux wrapped his legs tighter around his waist and looped his arms around his neck, and Kylo carried him toward the door. They went back to Hux’s room, where Kylo set him on the ground next to the cot.

“Look,” Kylo said, holding Hux’s face, “if things were different, and we had met in a cantina on Utel, you’d be bunking with me tonight, but we didn’t, and you’re not. I want you to get some rest. Don’t think about what you owe me.”

“It’s a life debt,” said Hux, insistent. “I won’t just let that go.”

Kylo rubbed his thumb across Hux’s still-tender cheekbone. “I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” He released Hux and, going to the cot, turned down the sheets. “There’s an extra blanket in the cabinet if you need it.”

Hux nodded, arms hanging limply at his sides. He wasn’t ashamed of himself, exactly, but clearly he had done something wrong, which only served to emphasize that he was now in a world that he didn’t understand.

“Goodnight, Hux,” Kylo said.

Hux replied, “Goodnight, Kylo,” and watched him walk out for the third time.

When he was gone, Hux sat heavily down on the cot. It was spongy and presumably more comfortable than his bunk on the _Finalizer_. Resigned to never seeing that again, he curled up under the sheets and closed his eyes. He had started the day as HX-4874, a First Order trooper, and now he was ending it as Hux, civilian, fugitive; someone he didn’t know.


	2. Kylo

The door closed behind him with a soft hiss, the lock unengaged, leaving Kylo in the steel-enclosed silence of his orbital station. His head was still muddled with the lingering stillness of his interrupted meditation, but he was swiftly, determinedly processing what had happened to pull him out of it: the stray stormtrooper he had picked up in an ill-advised moment of charity in an Utel City alley, barely held together by staples and painkillers, had made an insistent, if inexpert attempt at seducing him in order to _pay for his life_. If Kylo had been told the story by someone else, he would have laughed in disbelief, but the taste of Hux’s mouth and the smoothness of his skin under his left hand were vivid in his memory.

Lifting that hand to his lips, he rubbed the thumb along the lower, his breath warm and damp against it as he sighed. The mission on Utel Gamma was supposed to be simple: let the Resistance operatives on-planet falsify information about an intended saboteur to allow Kylo to pick up the vital intelligence they had gathered on the First Order from their mole. The transfer had been made successfully, but when Kylo had tried to make contact with Irrel, the Bith head of the Utel contingent, she hadn’t replied. He had been on his way to her apartment, taking a shortcut through the alley, when he had found Hux at the mercy of four stormtroopers. In black, he had stood apart from them, and Kylo had assumed—naïvely—that he was a civilian.

The troopers were easy enough to put down between the blaster Kylo carried on his hip and the Force, which he didn’t use but for situations like this, when he needed to gain the upper hand quickly and without mercy. He broke two of their necks in an instant, shooting the third and the fourth before they could pull the trigger on the red-headed man who knelt, defeated, in a puddle on the broken pavement. Kylo saw the sleek armor he wore, but didn’t think too much of it as he hauled him to his feet and started off toward the _Falcon_.

He didn’t have a map of the city, so finding a hospital was out of the question until he could get directions, but Hux demanded not to be taken to one anyway. Kylo hated them himself—he had spent too long there as a child, when he had first lost his arm—so it didn’t bother him in the least to skip the white walls and antiseptic smell of a bustling emergency ward. And he was used to basic triage; you didn’t work with the scum of a galaxy on a regular basis without scathe. It wasn’t until he got a good look at Hux’s wound, when they were aboard the _Falcon_ , that he knew there was going to be more to it than slapping on a bacta patch.

Kylo didn’t bother to warn him that the syringes of non-addictive painkillers were laced with sedatives as he injected one straight into his neck. Kylo had winced in sympathy when he pushed the plunger down and the blue liquid raced, stinging, into his veins. Hux had exhaled with relief, his eyelids falling over bruised and battered eyes. He managed to stay awake long enough to reject Kylo’s efforts to help him treat his side before allowing him to apply bacta gel to the lacerations on his face. He had said once again that he was expected somewhere, but already he was succumbing to the sedatives, and Kylo eased him back onto the couch as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Kylo had sat back onto the table, taking a minute to settle his racing nerves. He had looked Hux over in earnest, examining the high-end combat gear: plasteel plates in shining black and a thick woven base layer that looked to be custom-fit. It was unmarked, which was uncommon among mercenary bands, who wore their colors proudly, but made too clearly for combat to belong to anyone but a soldier. Hux didn’t seem too forthcoming with information, and while he had the right to that, Kylo needed to know if he could turn his back on him without putting himself at risk. Not that Hux was in any condition to fight, but Kylo didn’t have the first idea what kind of skills or intentions he had.

There was a way, of course, but Kylo loathed using it. It was invasive and, as his uncle had always told him, an abuse of the power he possessed, a tool employed only by those who were cruel enough to learn it. Unfortunately, Kylo had always had an innate talent. Even before he was born, he had prodded at his mother’s mind, demanding in his curiosity. She had been able to brush off his attempts when she was awake, but in dreams her defenses were lowered, and Kylo—Ben—had been able to push into her thoughts. It had frightened her, and even as an infant, Kylo had been able to sense the dismay that lay under her affection for him. He had felt the conflict in her when he was sent away to his uncle’s school for training: there was sorrow at letting him go, but also relief. Luke would teach him to keep to the light and control his darker impulses.

Kylo hadn’t entered someone’s mind in years. It wasn’t painless or undetectable; reading thoughts was done deliberately and left the subject taxed, sometimes to the point of fainting, if they were not already incapacitated for the interrogation. He preferred that they were. Their minds were fuzzier, the images less clear, but it spared him from watching their faces contort in pain as he forced himself into their heads. Hux, he told himself, wouldn’t remember the discomfort. Kylo would be quick; just a look and then it would be over.

Rising haltingly from his perch on the table, he had crouched at Hux’s side and set his left hand on his bacta-slick brow, just at the hairline. He dipped into the flow of the Force, using its energy to penetrate the flimsy barriers of Hux’s consciousness and slip into his thoughts.

He felt the exhaustion first, the bone-deep weariness that suffused Hux as his beaten body struggled to knit itself back together, aided only somewhat by the bacta. The painkillers kept the worst of the agony at bay, but it colored the edges of his mind with a red-gold aura that grew minutely as the anesthetic wore off by degrees. Around the hurt and tiredness, Kylo began to tease out the most recent memories: the slickness of the bloody gash on his side as he pushed his fingers into it; Kylo’s face fading in and out as Hux tried to focus his vision; the wetness at the knees of his base layer from where he had been on the ground; the burning in his lungs as he raced down flights and flights of stairs. And then he was lying on his back on a roof, staring up at the helmets of stormtroopers as they held him down. _Betrayed._

Kylo started at Hux’s recognition of the troopers. They were _his men_ , not First Order goons who had attacked an innocent on the street. Hux was one of them. Kylo pushed deeper into his mind, suppressing the regret as he watched the sleeping Hux knit his brows and frown. In Hux’s memory, he could all but taste the rush of satisfaction and pride as Hux shot down Irrel, the Bith Resistance operative, in her apartment from three hundred meters. Kylo hadn’t known her, but he took a moment to mourn her. He skimmed across Hux’s mind to see the days he had spent observing her, and before that, when the transport had dropped him and his men on Utel Gamma. Kylo’s pulse jumped. If he could go far enough back, he might be able to find out more about the First Order’s operations.

He froze, though, at a small, anguished cry. Looking down, he saw that Hux’s face was screwed up in pain as tears slipped from the swollen corners of his eyes. Kylo drew back from his mind so quickly that Hux whimpered again, hurt by the sudden withdrawal. Disgust and guilt roiled in Kylo’s gut, caustic and deserved; he had gone too far. Not even the Resistance’s enemies—not even the man who had taken pleasure in killing one of them—deserved to have his mind flayed until he wept.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo said as he fumbled with a piece of gauze to wipe the tears from Hux’s temples. Hux relaxed under his touch, returning to an undisturbed rest.

Kylo had rolled down onto his backside, pressing his rounded spine into the hard leg of the table behind him and fisting the gauze in his silver right hand. The tactile sensors registered it, but he couldn’t feel the texture or the salty dampness.

He had left Hux sleeping on the couch and gone to the cockpit, where he collapsed into the pilot’s chair, letting his head fall back against the rest while he ran possible scenarios for what could happen next. The most logical solution would be to drop Hux at the nearest hospital and let the Utel City authorities deal with him, but they would have questions for Kylo, too, and he didn’t need to advertise his presence on-planet. He couldn’t leave him elsewhere, not in his condition, and Kylo wasn’t about to dump him at the First Order recruitment office and hand him back to them. He was effectively a Resistance prisoner now, and should be taken in for questioning and detainment. D’Qar had the medical facilities to treat him, and maybe the higher-ups would be interested in him, but Kylo wasn’t allowed there. His role was as informant and go-between; he wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with the formal structure of the Resistance.

“Stars,” he had sighed, rubbing his brow with the cool metal of his right hand. He needed to get Hux’s wound treated, and if he couldn’t take him elsewhere, he really had only one option: the Ryden 2 station.

He probably should have given it a proper name, but it was meant to be hidden anyway, so he had never bothered. The Resistance had financed its transport to the system, but had funneled the credits through a series of back channels so it couldn’t be directly traced to them. It was, like Kylo, an informal part of the organization, where certain dealings were done without open association with the Resistance operations. Kylo mainly used it to store and move the merchandise he transported as a part of his day-to-day job, one he had inherited from his father. He didn’t call himself a smuggler, but it was, essentially, what he did. He had his shipping permits, even if most of the cargo he carried had to be concealed to get through port checks.

The station would be safe, at least, so Kylo had powered up the _Falcon_ ’s engines, requested permission to take off, and set a course for the Ryden system. Once in hyperspace, he had gone to the galley to get a bottle of juice, stopping by the couch on his way out. Hux lay still, as expected, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The bacta had sealed up the worst of the cuts on his face and dealt with some of the swelling, revealing an oval-shaped face, straight nose—luckily unbroken—that flared just a bit at the nostrils, and a soft, high jaw. His hands, long-fingered and narrow, were lying at his sides, the only bare skin save for his face.

The old Empire had used cloned stormtroopers, all with the same dark hair and eyes, but the First Order’s forces came from mixed stock. Kylo couldn’t imagine, though, there were many men among them who were as red as Hux. His eyebrows and lashes were just as bright as the hair on his head, fiery against the paleness of his skin — where it wasn’t bruised.

“What happened to you?” Kylo said as he watched Hux sleep. He knew he had been betrayed and almost killed by his own men, but the real reason was still buried in Hux’s mind, out of Kylo’s reach. He wouldn’t prod now, or even when he woke up; for the moment he would play dumb, until he could decide how to handle the stormtrooper that had fallen into his lap.

“Yeah,” Kylo huffed as he stood in the hallway just outside Hux’s door on the station. “Right into it.”

Slight and lanky, Hux shouldn’t have fit so well into the place between Kylo’s crossed legs, but he had folded himself around him just right, so that his seat bones rested comfortably on Kylo’s thighs and calves. And, stars, how he’d kissed: abrupt and seeking, making abundantly clear what was on offer.

Still half-dazed from his deep meditation, Kylo had permitted it— _enjoyed it_ —not remembering in those first few moments that Hux was First Order, and his prisoner. He had let Hux press against him and had swept his tongue into his mouth, deepening their kiss. He had liked how Hux’s skinny hips had felt between his hands, and how his heels had dug into his lower back to bring them closer. If he hadn’t inadvertently grabbed Hux’s freshly-bandaged side and made him convulse in pain, he was sure he would have sleepily let Hux go as far as he had intended, whether that put them in Kylo’s bed or ended up on the floor next to the viewport.

But they had stopped, and thankfully. Hux had believed he _had_ to give himself to Kylo, that his body was expected payment. Hearing that, Kylo had felt as though a bucket a water had been thrown over him, extinguishing any desire. His partners _chose_ to be with him; they did not come to him out of obligation. The idea was repellent, and even if Hux was still sitting in his lap, his lips slick with their shared saliva and looking good enough to eat (despite the bandages), Kylo would turn him away. Sex wasn’t currency to pay any debt, especially a life debt.

Having grown up with a Wookiee, Kylo knew the significance in that. His “Uncle” Chewie had stayed on with his father for years in order to pay his life debt, after Han had freed him from Imperial slavery. Han had, at first, tried to say his debt was paid after a few jobs, but Chewie had stuck with him, insisting it was not. Kylo wasn’t certain if they had ever agreed that it was officially done, but Chewie had saved Han’s life many times over the years. By now they were partners and family, and there was no more talk of debts. It wasn’t common for a human culture to swear life debts, but if the First Order did, it was going to make things very complicated, very quickly.

“I need a karking drink,” Kylo grumbled, padding down the hallway, away from Hux’s quarters and toward the kitchen. The illuminators came up to half brightness as he walked in, lighting the way to the cabinet, from which he pulled a quarter-full bottle of blue-green Hosnian whiskey. He chose a tumbler from the shelf above the sink and, unscrewing the cap of the bottle, splashed three fingers of liquor into it. He gulped down half.

He had told Hux they would talk about the life debt tomorrow, and they would have to, but Kylo hadn’t the first idea where to start. Maybe going to his bed would have been enough in the First Order ledgers, but Kylo really doubted it. “We might as well start now,” Hux had said. That implied that sex was just the first step, and if Kylo hadn’t allowed that, then Hux would be thinking of something else.

The last thing Kylo needed right now was a tagalong, like Chewie had been for his father. He worked alone for a reason: he had to protect himself and his ties to the Resistance. And he didn’t need anyone poking around his past. Hux had already asked about his arm—given, it was more about the tech than how he got it—and he didn’t want to dodge those questions if he could avoid them completely. Taking him to Leia was the most reasonable choice, really, life debt be damned, and that meant placing a call.

Knocking back the rest of his whiskey, he abandoned the tumbler and bottle on the counter and cut across the living space to a panel against the far wall. Ejecting a small key from the tip of his prosthetic forefinger, he slid it into the space between panels. A holographic keypad appeared, and he typed in his most recent security code. The panel’s series of locks clicked and it swung open.

The room inside was small, equipped with a single holocomm and one round chair, upholstered in soft synth-leather. Kylo closed the panel behind him and engaged the locks, before approaching the holocomm console. His mother’s private frequency was for emergencies only, but Kylo couldn’t think of anyone else in the Resistance hierarchy he could contact to address this problem. Keying it in, he hit the button to send the comm request, and then went to sit and wait.

The time difference on D’Qar was significant, but it didn’t take long for Leia to answer. Her hologram appeared after only a few minutes, revealing her hair to be in the long braid she wore for sleep and one side of her hastily-donned dressing gown lying crookedly across her chest. “Ben,” she said, sounding as alert as ever, as if she hadn’t just been in bed.

Kylo tried not to flinch at the sound of his old name, the one he had left behind along with his arm when he was fifteen. “Mother,” he began, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “It’s all right. What’s wrong? Something happened on Utel Gamma. You didn’t get the information.” The general’s formal disappointment supplanted a mother’s worry in her tone.

“I have it,” Kylo said, reaching into the secure pocket on his trousers. The chip he produced was no larger than his thumbnail. “I’ll send it over as soon as we’re done here.”

Leia nodded, her only acknowledgement, before saying, “Then what’s the matter?”

Kylo replied bluntly, “Irrel is dead. Probably the others, too. The First Order acted on the information we gave them.” He wet his lips, recounting Hux’s foggy memories: “They sent a tactical team. A sniper.”

Leia sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds. She knew all of the Resistance operatives by name, having given them their orders herself, and felt their loss acutely. “Did you find the troopers?”

“Yes,” said Kylo. “Five of the seven, anyway. Four are dead. The fifth...I took him captive.”

“You did _what_?” Leia said, brows raised in shock. “Ben, it’s not your place. The Resistance _sometimes_ takes prisoners. You do not.”

Kylo suppressed the childlike guilt at crossing a parent. “I know. I didn’t know he was a trooper when I took him. He was wounded, and I...I saved his life.” He cast his gaze down, unduly sheepish. “The others were attacking him. They had a blaster to his head.”

Leia paused at that, looking hard at Kylo through the holoprojector. “And you stopped them? A conflict among stormtroopers isn’t our concern.”

“I told you, I didn’t know he was one,” Kylo said.

“Until he admitted it to you?”

Heat did rise in Kylo’s face in earnest, then. “I looked at his mind.”

Leia, downcast, made clear this kind of disappointment was wholly maternal. “I see. So, he doesn’t know that you’re aware of what he is.”

“No,” said Kylo, shaking his head.

“And now you’re wondering what to do with him,” she continued, sitting back in her chair, chin high. Kylo didn’t bother to reply; she already knew the answer. “He’s of little use to us if he’s just a trooper. We need someone higher up with more than just basic orders to kill.”

Kylo drew his bottom lip under his upper teeth, anxiety rising in the pit of his stomach. “You want me to get rid of him.”

Leia’s expression—her senator’s face—betrayed nothing. “I’m not suggesting _that_. You can take him to a world, give him a few credits, and let him go. If he finds his way back to the First Order, he does, but if not, he’s not your burden.”

_It’s a life debt. I won’t just let that go._

Kylo met Leia’s eyes through the hologram and said, “I’ll find a way.”

The lines around her mouth softened. “Good. Transfer the information on that chip, and we’ll sort through it. Thank you for doing this, Ben. I’ll be in touch when something else comes up.”

“Goodbye, Mother,” Kylo said, and severed the connection. The blue glow of the hologram winked out, leaving the comm room in murky half-dark. Kylo reclined in his chair, staring up at the durasteel ceiling.

He should have known Hux wouldn’t be valuable to the Resistance. He should have left him on Utel and been done with it, not bring him to the station and patch him up. Leia had said he wasn’t his burden, but he was, and it wouldn’t be as easy as she said to just drop him on some backwater in Hutt space and let him fend for himself.

He had looked so lost when Kylo had told him he didn’t want him, and he had stood with his shoulders hunched and gaze on the floor as Kylo had left him in his room: uncertain, timid. Kylo had had him in his arms, too, and if that didn’t make him his responsibility, he wasn’t sure what else would have.

Prying himself out of the chair, Kylo left the comm room and made his way back to the kitchen. With one more glass of whiskey in hand, he wandered into the living space and sat down on the plush couch. He sipped at the liquor, letting it burn down into his empty stomach, as he watched Ryden 2 through the viewport. It lulled him, and soon he was resting his head on the arm of the couch and closing his eyes. Whatever he had to face with Hux in the morning, he’d do it after a few hours’ sleep.

 

* * *

 

When the voice comes, it always carries images with it: a figure in black robes with a saber that crackles with unstable red light. Its face is shrouded, but Kylo knows it well. _Ren._ Behind him are six others, each of them masked and carrying weapons of their own. The buildings at their backs are burning, casting their long shadows out across the packed dirt of the ground. The air smells of wood-fire, and ash dusts Ren’s shoulders, his cowled head. There’s a girl at his feet, dressed in plain brown and wearing her hair in braids. The light of his saber illuminates her wide-eyed, fearful face for a split second before he cuts her down, but there’s never any cry to hear, only the voice whispering steadily in Kylo’s mind.

“It’s your legacy. You’re to inherit your forebears’ power, wield the darkness that lives inside you. It burns to be free. Let it out. Let go of Ben Solo; he is weak and pathetic, bound by rules that limit his true strength.”

The words slither through him like the touch of long, cold fingers, curling around his consciousness and tempting, enticing, inviting.

“This is your destiny, Ren. _Take it!_ Become what you were meant to be.”

In the vision, Kylo sees himself at the center of his uncle’s temple, the school where he spent his youth, but he’s just a boy, barely a teenager, his cropped hair baring his ears. The hilts of two lightsabers lie on the ground at his feet: one narrow and unadorned, the other heavy and ill-balanced with a thick crossguard. The voice, new to him then, tells him to choose. Kylo extends his boyish right hand, still whole, flesh and blood, toward the heavier of the two sabers.

“Good, boy,” the voice continues. “Reach for what you deserve. Don’t be smothered by the weak-willed Jedi. Come to me. Come into your own. Come, Ren, come.”

In a sudden, eerie instant, Kylo is surrounded by familiar faces: the other padawans and, at the center, Uncle Luke. They are looking on in silence, their gazes dark with judgment. Kylo stares at them, frightened, but he can’t call out to them; his throat his closed, his mouth dry. The gloominess of the light begins to turn yellow and red. _The fire._ Kylo can feel the heat at his back, but he doesn’t dare turn to look at it. The two sabers are still lying before him, and the voice is insistent now: “Take it. Take it. Take it, Ren.”

The circle of padawans breaks into chaos as the six dark knights charge through it, weapons flashing in the firelight. A boy falls and then a girl. The knight at the forefront carries a two-bladed staff, and he spins it as he approaches Luke. Kylo’s uncle goes for his saber, but his belt is empty; he doesn’t carry it when he teaches. Half-blind with terror and rage, Kylo bypasses the heavy, black saber and grabs the slender one, engaging the blade. It’s red, but it’s smooth and steady. Holding it at high guard, he charges the knight and drives it through his chest.

The voice howls, not in pain, but in fury: “Idiot, worthless boy! I could have given you everything. All the power you could have desired.”

“You won’t have me,” Kylo says. But in this single pause, he’s made a terrible mistake; he didn’t see the knight behind him. His own screams drown out the voice’s final curses as the knight’s weapon tears through his shoulder and arm. The lightsaber falls to the ground, blade disappearing. Kylo collapses, grasping at the wound that is bleeding down his side. He tries to move his right arm, but it’s useless. Tears stream down his face as he gasps for breath, and then the world goes dark.

“You can still take what’s yours, Ren,” the voice says in the blackness. “Come to me.”

Kylo’s reply is deep, his voice as a grown man: “Never, Snoke.”

There’s a broken laugh, a whispered “In time, Ren,” and then silence.

 

* * *

 

Kylo jerked awake, sweat-soaked and clutching his right shoulder as aftershocks of pain radiated through it and down to where he thought he felt his arm. The medics said it would never fully go away; a “phantom limb,” they called it. Eyes still closed, he worked the prosthetic fingers into a fist and then out of it again, as if he could feel it stretching. In the quiet of the station, he could hear the nearly imperceptible whirring of the cybernetics.

“Are you awake?”

Awareness hitting him like a slap across the face, Kylo sat up and delved into the flow of the Force, his nearest weapon. Hux, who stood beside the couch, took a measured step back, eyeing Kylo warily. Recognizing him, Kylo stopped and released his hold on the Force; backed down.

“How long have you been there?” he asked, rubbing at his sleep-crusted eyes with his left hand.

“A minute,” Hux replied, “maybe two.” His tongue darted out to brush his lip, and his body was tense, as if ready to flee or attack; Kylo couldn’t decide which. “You were calling out. I could hear you”—he gestured back to where his room was—“from there.”

Kylo lifted his legs from the couch, setting his bare feet down onto the cold floor as he leaned on his thighs. It had been a few weeks since he had last had a dream about the attack on his uncle’s school, when he had faced the six men sent to kidnap and take him to the creature that would be his master, who had been in his head since he was a little boy.

“Sorry,” he said, letting his head hang between his arms. “Nightmares.”

Hux cocked his head slightly to the side, inquisitive. “You said a name. Snoke. How do you know it?”

Kylo peered up at him, quickly searching for a way to deflect. Snoke was his own business, and he had no desire to explain him to anyone, especially Hux. “I said that, huh? I say a lot of things when I’m dreaming. I don’t always know what they mean.” Rising, he used his scant inch or so of height over Hux to stare him down. It wasn’t really a threat, at least not a considerable one. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“No,” Hux said, flatly.

When he didn’t continue, Kylo asked, “Did you get a little rest, at least?” A glance at the digital chronometer on the wall revealed it was nearing 0600 standard. He had slept for about six hours, Hux for seven.

“I did,” said Hux. “And well.” He shifted his weight, moving one hand to where his side was bandaged; his chest was still bare save for it. “I came to ask if you might help me. The droid said I should change this after I bathe. I don’t think I can do it myself.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kylo said. “Of course. Do you want me to take it off for you?”

Hux nodded shallowly. “Yes. I don’t want to tear it.” He seemed genuinely apprehensive, and Kylo felt for him. He hadn’t looked too good while 1H had been stapling the wound closed, so Kylo figured he wasn’t going to want to see much of it while it was still healing.

Kylo took a step closer to him, relieved when he didn’t back away. “Okay, we’ll get it in your ‘fresher.”

Hux took that cue to turn, and stalked in long strides back toward the residences. The door to his room was open, so they went straight through, and Kylo noted that the bed was neatly made, as if Hux had never even slept in it. But the pillow had a creases from being used, which he was glad to see.

He blinked as they entered the refresher, the illuminators having come up to full strength immediately. Hux stopped in the center, very conspicuously not facing the mirror, and watched Kylo approach. His skin wasn’t stark white, but tinged with pink—not a flush, just its natural coloring—making the bandage stand out against it. The tape at the edge was peeling just a little, leaving a sticky residue that Kylo wanted to wipe away with a warm towel.

“Do you want to soak it off again?” he said, glancing between Hux and the shower.

Hux blinked once, thoughtful. “No. The droid didn’t say that. I’ll just take it off.” He seemed very keen on following orders, which Kylo supposed that was a product of his training; troopers did as they were told. Rumor among the Resistance was that troopers were mentally and physically conditioned from infancy to obey out of unflagging loyalty to the First Order. What really happened to them wasn’t known, but it couldn’t have been an easy life, brainwashing or no.

“You don’t have to do everything 1H told you,” said Kylo, “but if that’s how you want to do it, that’s fine.” He came up next to Hux and, cautiously, reached out for his arm. Hux shot him a warning look, but then relaxed, allowing Kylo to lift it up to rest on his shoulder. “Just hang on here,” Kylo said. “In case it hurts.”

Hux swallowed, but gave another nod. “Go on, then.”

Kylo had always been told that ripping a bandage off hurt a lot less than removing it slowly, but he was too afraid of tearing Hux’s staples to do that. Instead, he started at the upper corner of the bandage and began to draw the tape back. Hux’s skin came up with it, but settled back as soon as the adhesive had let go.

“Is that okay?” Kylo said, pausing once the first bit of tape was free.

“Yes,” said Hux, curt, as the hand that rested on Kylo’s shoulder tightened.

“Just tell me to stop if you need me to.” Kylo started in on the next side, exposing the actual wound. It was still an angry red, but it wasn’t raised unhealthily; the bacta seemed to have started mending the skin, though the staples were still necessary to hold the two sides together. Kylo’s own stomach turned a little, but he pushed through it to peel off the last of the tape and remove the bandage completely. “There. Done.”

Hux’s wide eyes were focused on Kylo’s face. They were green, Kylo saw, darker around the pupils and bright as the color radiated out. “All right,” he said.

Kylo held his gaze, gingerly touching the sticky square around the wound. “Do you want me to turn on the shower for you?”

“I can do it,” Hux replied, though he made no move to leave the spot.

Kylo stayed as well, his left thumb just slightly catching on the adhesive residue as he passed over it. Hux was so much thinner than him, despite his height, and Kylo knew he could carry him, even if he was a bit more solid than he seemed. It made sense that he wasn’t a ground trooper; he didn’t have the physique for it. But Kylo had seen in his memories just how lethal he could be with his long-range blaster.

“Let me get it,” Kylo said. He gave Hux’s tender side a last touch as he left him, going to the cubicle and turning the handle to start the water. It spilled down over his forearm, and he left his hand in the spray until he judged the temperature to be warm enough. He stepped back and turned, but the inviting “It’s ready now” died on his tongue.

Hux stood just a pace from where he had been, the black pants Kylo had given him in a discarded puddle on the floor. He held himself tall, his shoulders square, and his arms dangled at his sides, doing nothing to hide his nudity. Kylo stared, frozen and caught wholly off guard; his jaw hung slack, though he snapped his mouth shut as Hux took a few steps toward him.

“Do you want to join me?” Hux said, laying a hand on Kylo’s chest, just above his strongly beating heart. The movement was hesitant, but he brought his other hand to Kylo’s waist, pulling himself closer. The tips of their chilly toes touched. “I’ve heard that’s done, sometimes.”

Kylo’s pulse jumped at his proximity and touch, which was less demanding than before, but not undetermined. He curled the hem of Kylo’s shirt into his forefingers, letting the pinky and ring finger brush the skin he exposed. Kylo shivered under it, nerves alight. Hux never took his eyes off of his face, clearly studying and gauging his reaction. Kylo wasn’t certain how he appeared, but inside he was frantically assessing every move he could make: he could take Hux by the hips and pull him in; he could run his fingertips over his jaw, where red-blond stubble had grown in overnight; he could move his hands down his knobby spine until he reached the small of his back, the tops of his buttocks; he could kiss his parted lips as he let Hux undress him before stepping under the hot water of the shower.

But he did none of these things.

“No,” he said, taking hold of Hux’s shoulders and pushing him lightly back. “I told you you don’t have to do this.”

Hux’s expression darkened, not with anger, but chagrin. There was a sulkiness to his tone as he said, “I have nothing else to give you, but I’m indebted. Why won’t you take this?”

Kylo frowned, disliking how coldly he spat the word “this,” as if was a meaningless transaction. “It isn’t how a life debt goes,” he said, firm. “I don’t have any claim on you...physically.”

“Oh, I see,” Hux said. “You’re not inclined to me.” He looked down, chewing on his full lower lip. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He sounded almost wounded.

“No,” Kylo sighed, sliding his hands down to Hux’s biceps and rubbing lightly with his thumbs. “It’s not that. I’m, uh, ‘inclined.’ It’s just...” He trailed off, searching for what to say. He didn’t need this; he just wanted to do what Leia had said and send Hux away. But instead he found himself saying, “We’ll find another way for you to pay your debt.”

Hux lowered his hands, releasing his hold on Kylo’s shirt. “This would be simpler.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kylo conceded, “but it’s not how it’s going to happen.” With a gentle, but assertive hold, he steered Hux into the shower cubicle. “Get cleaned up, and then come get some breakfast. I’m going to get you some fresh clothes. We’ll have to go planetside to buy you some that fit, but we’ll take care of that later.” _When I figure out what do you with you._ “Just...have a good shower.” Backing up, he took a last look at Hux—his hair was sodden and stuck to his brow, and water ran down his sleek sides in clear runnels—before fleeing the refresher.

Kylo went straight to his room, keying himself into the door and slamming the button to close it behind him. He fell back against it and took a few deep breaths. “Shit.” In the span of less than twelve hours, he had managed to kark up everything that he needed to go smoothly in his life, and all because he had to play the hero for a pretty stranger with red hair.

He cursed again. Hux was something to behold, and it had taken all of Kylo’s willpower to keep from getting into that shower with him. He would have felt so good under his hands, all soft skin and long lines. Kylo would have washed him from head to toe, careful to skirt around his wound, enjoying the soapy taste when he kissed him after he was clean. Then he would have led him to bed and wrapped them up to sleep for another few hours. It had been months since he had had someone in his bed—never on the station, and never just to sleep—but the prospect was undeniably attractive.

_Out of the question._

Peeling himself away from the door, he went across the room to his own refresher and made quick work of a shower and shave. He looked himself over in the mirror as he drew the razor up his cheek, curious what Hux saw. It seemed it didn’t much matter to him whether or not he found Kylo appealing, but Kylo couldn’t help but wonder if he did. Amused by his own vanity, he wiped the shaving cream away from his face and went to dress.

He hated to admit it, but most of his clothes were reminiscent of what his father had always worn: simple trousers, soft shirts with open collars, even the occasional vest. It was inconspicuous, which Kylo did his utmost to be, even when his height and breadth made him stick out in a crowd. He pulled a blue shirt over his head, his wet hair leaving damp spots at the shoulders, and stepped into a set of black trousers. For Hux he chose white and plain green, making sure to find him a belt to cinch at his waist. Clothes in hand, he left his room to knock on Hux’s door. There wasn’t an immediate reply, but he opened it anyway.

“Hey, uh, I’ve got something for you to wear,” he said, loudly enough to be heard in the refresher. “I’ll just leave it here?”

Hux appeared at the threshold, a towel wrapped around his hips. “Wait. The bandages…”

Kylo stopped, saying, “Right,” as he set the clothes down on the bed. The clean bandage and tape 1H had left were still sitting on the bedside table, so he went to retrieve them there. To Hux: “Why don’t you sit down?”

His steps were silent as he made his way over and sat down on the mattress, looking up at Kylo expectantly. Kylo took the bandages and topical bacta packet and sat beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight. Hux’s shoulder collided with his.

“This’ll be cold,” he said, tearing the packet open and squeezing some of the gel onto his fingers. He couldn’t warm it between his hands, seeing as one of them was cool metal anyway.

Hux lifted his arm out of the way. “It’s all right. Just do it.”

Kylo smeared the bacta over the wound as quickly but gently as possible, until it glistened. The gauzy bandage stuck to it, allowing him to apply the tape along the same sticky lines that had been left like a guide. Hux was silent throughout, his expression blank enough that Kylo could assume he wasn’t hurting him.

“Okay,” Kylo said as he drew back. “That’s it.”

Hux shifted his torso, testing the give and pull of the tape. “Thank you.”

Kylo offered a small smile. “It’ll be healed up in no time. You probably won’t even have a scar.”

“I think I might like to have one,” Hux said, brows drawn. He cast a brief glance at Kylo’s arm, though it was covered by his shirt, save for his hand. “A body should reflect its past, shouldn’t it?”

Kylo hadn’t thought of it in that way before; it was unexpectedly sentimental. As a boy, he had been bitter and furious when he had woken up in the hospital with a full part of him missing. He had thought himself crippled, as it was his dominant hand, but Uncle Luke had sat with him for days in the aftermath, showing him his own prosthetic and telling him how he’d grown used to it until it felt no different from his real limb. Kylo hadn’t believed him, especially in the first awkward months of learning to manipulate his new arm, but it had proved true. The arm was no different than the rest of him now, and as Hux said, it did tell the story of what his body had been through and survived.

“Well,” Kylo said, gaze falling on the empty bacta packet lying on his knee, “we can leave this off tomorrow. It shouldn’t get infected. At least I hope not.”

“The droid will see to it if it does,” said Hux, with a kind of confidence Kylo certainly didn’t feel. “It will have to take the staples out eventually.”

“Far as I know, they just dissolve when the skin knits itself back together.”

Hux pursed his lips. “Ah, well. I suppose it won’t matter if it doesn’t scar.”

Kylo had no reply to that, so he kept quiet. They should likely get going if they wanted to get planetside while the sun was still up, but he didn’t move. His thigh was resting against Hux’s, which was hidden by the towel stretched over it, and he had to suppress the compulsion to set his hand on his knee and squeeze, a small attempt at comfort. Instead, he picked up the clothes and offered them.

“Hopefully these’ll do for you,” he said. “I figure you can wear your boots for now, but if you want something else, we can get it.” Hux’s armor was piled in the corner of the room, abandoned.

“I don’t have any credits,” said Hux. “They were...stolen.”

Kylo marked the lie for what it was, but disregarded it. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.” He ventured a crooked grin. “I make a good living, remember? I have a space station.”

Hux eyed him sidelong, but said, “Very well.” He rose smoothly, painlessly, and made to undo the towel.

Kylo shot to his feet and, clearing his throat, headed for the door. “Come to the kitchen when you’re done,” he said. “I don’t have anything really good, but...are ration bars and caf okay?” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I, uh, don’t really cook much.”

“Yes,” said Hux, the corners of his mouth turning up with just the slightest amusement. “I’ve never cooked before, either.”

“Yeah,” Kylo laughed. “My mother wasn’t really the cooking kind and neither was my dad, so I just make do with the best packages credits can buy.”

The was being generous to Leia, in actuality. She had never so much as fixed a prepackaged meal for herself. Raised on Alderaan as royalty, she had had the finest chefs on hand, and even as part of the Rebellion, she had eaten in the mess halls. The senator’s life she had led when Ben was a child didn’t lend itself to cooking, either. Ben’s nanny had done the majority of it, seeing as Leia was out most of the day and Han wasn’t always around. Kylo had a few memories of omelets his father had tried to make; they were not fond ones.

Hitching his thumbs in his belt, he said to Hux, “Glad to hear you’re not picky.”

“I’m not.” Hux once again reached for the towel, giving Kylo a pointed look that conveyed, clearly: _I’m removing this. If you’re going, do it now._ “I’ll be there shortly.”

Kylo nodded, whirled on his heel, and strode out of the door.

If he didn’t mind military-grade rations, Kylo _did_ have an affinity for strong, good quality caf — another hand-me-down from his father. Han Solo drank it strong and sludgy, which Leia found disgusting, but she had always been a tea drinker anyway. Kylo set up the machine in the kitchen to brew while he rooted around in the cupboards for the freshest ration bars. It had been a while since he had picked up anything new, but he did have a couple of chocolate-flavored ones—his favorite—left. He didn’t even hear Hux’s approach, and started when he turned to see him standing by the counter.

“Stars,” he muttered. “You’re as quiet as a mouse droid.”

Hux traced the square edge of the counter with his forefingers, his eyes cast down. “Yes, I do tend to be. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Kylo waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Here.” He held out a ration bar, which Hux took and looked over.

“‘Chocolate cake,’” he read. “Is that a sweet?”

Kylo raised his brows, absently crinkling the package of his own bar. “I mean, it isn’t as good as actual cake, but it’s sweet enough. Haven’t tried this kind, huh?”

Hux tore open the package and brought the bar to his nose, sniffing dubiously. “We weren’t issued sweet things,” he said.

Kylo noted his choice of words, likely a slip-up he didn’t even think about; only troopers were “issued” anything. “Give it a try,” Kylo said. “If you don’t like it, I have other flavors. But it goes well with the caf. Sweet and bitter, you know.”

Pulling the wrapper down, Hux took a tentative bite of the bar. He chewed it slowly, as if it were something delectable to be relished. “Oh,” he sighed once he had swallowed, the lean muscles in his throat working.

“Good?” Kylo asked.

“Yes,” Hux replied with fervency. “Very good. It’s...remarkable.” Without hesitation, he took another bite, this one considerably larger.

Kylo turned to the caf machine to hide his grin, though he watched out of the corner of his eye as Hux tore through the bar. Retrieving two mugs, he filled them with caf and offered one to Hux. In his other hand, he held out another ration bar.

“Here,” he said. “Have this one, too.” Hux blinked at him, questioning, but curled his fingers around it as Kylo pushed it into his hand. “Go on. I’ve got a bunch.”

Caf in one hand and bar in the other, Hux moved toward the counter to set the bar down. He sipped at the caf, and his eyes brightened. “This is good, too.”

“There’s more where that came from, if you want it,” said Kylo, taking a drink from his own mug, and nearly wincing at the temperature. Hux seemed unfazed as he drank and ate greedily. “So,” Kylo said as he unwrapped a somewhat disappointing garberry ration bar of his own, “where do you come from? Your homeworld.”

It was idle conversation, but Hux paused in chewing, mug held halfway up to his mouth and a flash of apprehension in his face. Kylo was about to tell him not to worry about it, but then he said, quietly, “Arkanis.”

“Outer Rim,” said Kylo, if he remembered his galactic maps well, which he did. “Not too far from here, really. Wouldn’t take more than five hours in hyperspace to get there.” He paused, but asked, “Maybe you want to go back there?”

Hux frowned into his caf. “I barely remember it. I didn’t spend much time on-world.”

“Yeah,” Kylo said. “I wasn’t on my homeworld much, either. I was only six when I left.” He still remembered how he had wept when his mother and father had ushered him down from the _Falcon_ and toward Uncle Luke’s school. They had embraced him and told him to wipe away his tears.

“This is your place, Ben,” Leia had said. “You’re meant to be a Jedi, just like your uncle. It’s a very special honor.”

Kylo had clung to her leg, leaving wet stains on her dress and begging her not to leave. Only Han’s promise to teach him to fly if he was a good boy and worked hard at his training had bolstered him. He had wiped his leaking nose with the back of his hand and held in any further sobs. Han had picked him up and swung him around one last time before setting him on his feet to toddle toward where Luke waited. After that, he didn’t see them for two years.

“I was the same age when I was taken away,” said Hux.

“Is that so?” Kylo said, intrigued. He laughed. “We match, then. Maybe it was the same year. You can’t be much younger than me.”

“I doubt that,” Hux scoffed. “You’re not a day over thirty.”

Kylo saluted him with his mug. “A good guess. I’ve got twenty-nine standard years under my belt. Where does that land you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Huh,” said Kylo, not bothering to hide his surprise; Hux had a much younger look about him. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for that.”

Hux shrugged. “What difference does it make? It’s only five years. Where I come from, we don’t put much stock in age. It’s experience and capability that matter.”

“Arkanis?” Kylo asked. “Or elsewhere?” There was really no reason why Hux couldn’t tell him he was First Order. He had no idea about Kylo’s ties to the Resistance—which Kylo had no intention of revealing—or that he had any particular prejudice against stormtroopers. Unless he considered how ruthlessly Kylo had killed four of them; that might put him off.

“Elsewhere,” Hux said, warning in his voice.

“Right,” Kylo mumbled as he took another sip of his caf. He didn’t want to press, but he couldn’t resist adding, darkly, “Does that make you experienced and capable, then?”

Hux’s eyes narrowed, and he looked Kylo up and down, appraising in a way that made Kylo think that maybe, maybe, he _did_ find him appealing. He tried not to be overly pleased.

“I’m excellent at what I do,” Hux said, lowly.

Kylo sucked his teeth, making a show of his tongue as it touched his lower lip. He was satisfied to see that Hux’s gaze was drawn there. “What is that, exactly?”

Hux hesitated for a moment, but as he set down his mug, he replied, “I’m a marksman. The organization that...employed me was, as you suggested last night, paramilitary.”

The First Order was hardly _para_ military, Kylo thought, but he it let it go. At least Hux wasn’t trying to pass off the combat dress he had worn as something other than it was. Kylo would have had to have been an idiot to buy any other cover story, and he appreciated that Hux didn’t imagine him a fool.

However, he played into the lie, saying, “So you _are_ a merc.”

Hux repeated what he had said before, dodging a forthright answer: “Of a sort. But I believe I am now a freelancer.”

Kylo wasn’t sure if it was a step too far, but he took a chance: “So, you can’t go back to your previous employers? Or you don’t want to?”

“No,” Hux said, curt. “I am...not welcome there anymore.”

“Oh,” said Kylo. He scanned over Hux’s brief, watery memories of his own men turning on him. There were uncounted things that he might have done to deserve an execution, and while Kylo itched to know which of them it was, he couldn’t ask. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”

“No,” Hux said again. “But I couldn’t go anywhere even if I did. My debt requires me to offer my service to you. If you will not be paid in other ways.”

Kylo drained the rest of his caf, setting the mug down with the scrape of ceramic on metal. They had come to this, then. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any better ideas than he had had before breakfast. “I don’t really need a marksman,” he said. “I’m a trader.”

Hux let his hands hang by his sides, rubbing the thumbs along his forefingers. “I have other uses. I’m able, and I can work.” He lowered his gaze, fisting his hands. “Or I can be sold.”

“ _No_ ,” Kylo said sharply. “I’m not a slaver. I would never…no.” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you pilot?”

Hux shook his head.

_No one to fill the copilot’s seat, then._

“You like tech.” He opened his prosthetic hand, gesturing toward him. “Can you fix it?”

“Firearms only,” said Hux. “But I’m _very_ good with those.”

Kylo could maintain his own blasters, so that wasn’t really of much help. “What languages do you speak?”

“Only Basic. I can read some High Galactic.”

“Really?” Kylo asked. High Galactic was basically dead, and only a written language. Even his polyglot mother hadn’t learned it. “How’d you come by that?”

Hux looked everywhere but Kylo’s face. “I had some education on Arkanis. A long time ago.”

Kylo again called up everything the Resistance had learned about the First Order Stormtrooper Program: as far as they knew, children were taken from common homes—farmers’ or laborers’—none of whom would have had any reason to know or teach High Galactic. If Hux had, it implied he had come from somewhere else altogether. And he spoke with an old-world Imperial accent, no traces of Inner Rim coarseness or Core lilt. Kylo eyed him like a puzzle box, wanting to manipulate his cogs and panels until he could unlock what he was hiding.

Tamping down his interest, he said, “No Bocce, huh? That’s what you really need to get by in this business.”

“No,” Hux said, his cheeks pinkening. He was embarrassed, Kylo knew, but the color looked good on him. “I could learn, if you would teach me.”

“I could tell you some phrases, sure,” said Kylo, “but it’ll take time to really pick it up. And I don’t think you’ll be with me long enough for that.”

Hux looked up sharply. “I’ll stay as long as it takes. I must.”

Kylo took a step toward him, tempted to reach out and calm him with a touch. “I know. I’m just not used to having someone around.” He cocked a brow. “And you aren’t really cut out for this kind of work.”

“Then hire me out, if you must,” said Hux, approaching him in kind. “I’ll give you my wages if I’m to be paid.” His eyes flashed. “Sell my skills, or my body, or both.”

Kylo snapped his hands out, landing them hard on Hux’s shoulders. “Enough. I’m not going to sell you to anyone. You’ll work for me. I’ll find something for you to do, even if it’s lifting boxes.” He had droids for that, but if it was the only thing he could think of to keep Hux occupied, it would suffice. He didn’t want to think about what it was going to mean for his jobs for his mother, but he would contend with that when he had to. “You’ll pay your debt, okay?”

Hux glanced at each of Kylo’s hands, one flesh, one silver, and then nodded. “All right.”

Kylo exhaled, releasing him. “Good. Are you finished eating? We should get planetside.” By his reckoning, the sun would be setting in his favorite port town of Hydria, but it was still morning on the central continent, and there was a decent market in Olmek.

“Let’s go,” said Hux.

They left their mugs and the wrappers of their ration bars in the kitchen to be dealt with later, and Kylo led Hux to the lift that would take them to the _Falcon_. Han would want it back soon, leaving Kylo with his own smaller, newer, and sleeker freighter. Of course, he preferred the old bird, but Han wouldn’t give it up until he was in the grave. “You’re lucky I even let you borrow her, kid,” his father unfailingly told him every time he left the _Falcon_ in Kylo’s care.

She was waiting in the hangar for them, her loading door already open and beckoning. When they reached the cockpit, Kylo swung into the pilot’s chair, but Hux hung back. Peeking over his shoulder, Kylo tapped the chair beside him. “Sit down. I’ll show you a couple of things.”

Hux sank into it, his attention immediately on the console. “It’s complicated,” he said.

“Not really,” Kylo laughed, “once you get used to it.” He ran through his pre-flight checks by rote, but then tapped the ignition button. To Hux, he said, “You push this now.”

Hux laid his finger just beside Kylo’s, pausing to take a breath, and then pressed the button. The _Falcon_ roared to life, and Hux smiled. Kylo returned it as he keyed in the code to open the hangar doors and guided the freighter out into the starscape toward Ryden 2.

“Let me show you what this girl can do,” he said. “Better hold on.” Hux gripped the arms of the chair. “You ready?”

“I am.” And they were off.


	3. Hux

Kylo proved to be an adept pilot, bringing his ship smoothly through atmo and down over a small city whose squat buildings cast shadows in the slanted mid-morning sunlight. The Ryden system had only one sun, but it was massive and burned hot, far from the weak one Arkanis orbited, casting its grey light onto an already grey-green planet. It would be far warmer outside than Hux was used to, and brighter. He had been told that his skin would burn easily in harsh climates, but he had always been in full armor when he deployed outside of the star destroyers on which he had spent most of his life. He was bareheaded now, and wearing only a lightweight shirt and trousers that barely held onto his hips, despite the belt. The sun reflected off the ship’s viewport in a glinting flash, making him blink.

“Here we are,” Kylo said as he set the freighter down on a public landing pad just the other side of a stretch of scrubby grassland. The city lay opposite, sprawling for maybe twenty kilometers, but no more.

“What is this place?” Hux asked.

Kylo powered down the ship’s engines, which whined as they spooled out. “Olmek,” he said. “Capital city of Binnik Province. Not a fancy place, but it’s quiet and we’ll find what we need here.” He swung out of his seat and up, starting out of the cockpit, and leaving Hux to follow.

They stopped in the central living space for Kylo to retrieve a sidearm from a narrow cabinet, which he slid into the holster along his thigh. Hux caught a glimpse of a few more blasters in the cabinet, but he didn’t ask for one. Kylo’s acceptance of his mercenary story was fortunate; however, Hux wasn’t about to push his luck when it came to his trust. He could just as easily kill Kylo and steal his ship—although he had admitted that he couldn’t pilot. He simply let his hands hang at his sides, waiting for Kylo to be finished.

“All right,” Kylo said, flashing Hux a toothy grin. “Let’s get going.”

A blast of dry, sweltering air swept over them as the loading door of the freighter was lowered. The heat wavered over the pavement of the landing pad in clear swells that dissipated several meters above the ground, and the reddish hardpan of the nearby street blazed in the overbright sunshine. Hux could already feel the prickling of sweat at the small of his back, his temper souring. He decided he was not fond of heat this intense.

Kylo strode down the ramp as if unaffected, and Hux stayed at his side, their long steps almost matched. “Just have to check in,” he said. “But then the market’s about ten blocks away. You don’t mind walking?”

“No,” said Hux, though he expected to be hotter still, and displeased, by the time they reached their destination.

They went down the nearby stairs to a booth manned by a rotund service droid, which took Kylo’s credits for the lease of the pad for six hours. Hux couldn’t imagine that it would take them that long to buy a few sets of clothes, but he didn’t question it, instead going along with Kylo as he jogged across the street to a sidewalk lined with white bricks. A few sentient creatures were making their way along it, and a vendor pushing a covered cart from which some kind of skinned rodents hung called out to them in a language Hux didn’t understand. If Kylo did, he ignored him.

As they went away from the docks, the sidewalks began to fill up, passersby walking with their heads down, focused on their own destinations. Most of them were dressed in muted colors that seemed as sunbleached as the planet’s surface, but there were some in finer threads, going by in shaded litters borne by humans in wide-brimmed hats. There was a child in one who pointed at Hux as she and a woman who was presumably her mother passed by, chattering away in the same language the vendor had used.

Beside him, Kylo chuckled. “She was saying how unusual you are. There aren’t many red-haired people here.”

A glance around proved that true: all of the humans in sight had black hair worn long and braided intricately. Hux and Kylo seemed the only two with theirs trimmed above their shoulders. Hux frowned; he didn’t want to stand out.

“What language are they speaking?” he asked.

“Etash,” said Kylo. “It’s the dialect of this part of the continent. I can only make out about half the words I hear, but I know enough to get by if someone doesn’t speak Bocce or Basic.”

Hux listened to the chirped sounds of conversations around him. “I suppose that’s fairly common here, then?”

Kylo slipped past a masked Gand male walking determinedly in the opposite direction, but when he came back next to Hux, he replied, “Laborers and factory workers usually stick to Etash, but anyone who travels, trades, or has money learns Basic. Olmek here isn’t far from the sulfur mines, so there are a lot of Etash speakers around, but you’ll be fine in the market. You ever haggled before?”

“Have I what?” Hux said, wholly unfamiliar with that word.

Kylo raised his brows. “Haggled. Negotiated a price on something?”

Hux had never had credits or the need to buy anything before; the First Order provided everything for its troopers. “I haven’t.”

“Well,” Kylo said, “you’ll get your chance today. Don’t ever pay full price for anything. Talking someone down from the first offer is expected around here.”

Hux shot him a sidelong glance, disbelieving. Surely he wasn’t serious; such a process wasn’t at all efficient. “Why wouldn’t a merchant just set the price he wanted to get for an item and save himself and his customers some time?”

Kylo shrugged. “It’s tradition.”

“Unnecessary,” Hux grumbled, making Kylo laugh.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll teach you how to do it, and you’ll be arguing with the best of them in no time.”

They made their way onto one of the main thoroughfares, at least as far as Hux could judge by the speeders that were zipping along the four lanes between the sidewalks. Most of the buildings were windowless and no higher than five storeys; hardly like the towering complexes in Utel City. Perhaps there were metropolises like it on Ryden 2, but this was not one of them. Still, Hux paid sharp attention to his surroundings, taking stock of hidden places from which they could be attacked and eyeing the beings with whom they shared the sidewalk.

He was conscious of being exposed, and of the gazes that were falling on him and Kylo. They stood head and shoulders above most of the humans, though not all of the other creatures. He knew he would have been just as conspicuous in his armor, but he craved the familiarity of the helmet and plating.

“So, I figure we’ll go to the textiles quarter first,” Kylo said, drawing Hux’s attention back to him. “Get you something to wear. Then maybe we could catch a Cabourian dust match. Don’t think you’ve seen one of those.”

Hux, of course, had not. “And what is that?”

Kylo waggled his eyebrows. “That would spoil the surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” said Hux.

“You’re going to have to get used to them if you’re going to be working with me. _I_ hate the same thing all the time.” Kylo gestured with his silver hand, turning the corner onto a side street. “Come on. This way.”

Hux heard the noise of the market before he saw it: a mix of raised, excited voices, the murmurs of different languages, and strange, whining music interspersed with irregular drumbeats. He could smell it, too. The scents were foreign, but enticing: perhaps perfumes, perhaps cooking foods. His mouth watered despite his full stomach.

 _Chocolate cake._ The ration bars he had eaten for breakfast had been unlike anything he had tasted before. Foods for the troopers were bland to the point that Hux barely even registered the scant flavor anymore; he ate to fuel his body and nothing more. But the sweetness of the bar Kylo had given him had exploded across his tongue, delicious and rich. When he had been offered a second one, he had taken it greedily, expecting that he would never have such a thing again. And the caf had been black and thick, stronger than anything he had been served aboard the _Finalizer_.

He hadn’t missed Kylo watching him eat and drink with interest, and maybe a bit of amusement, but he hadn’t stopped or slowed down. Kylo had chewed his own ration bar slowly, sipping caf from the white ceramic mug, the same as Hux held. He had asked Hux about his skills, the things he could do to pay his debt. To Hux’s dismay, he had nothing to offer, and Kylo had made it abundantly clear again that morning that he had no desire for his body.

The best alternative was to hire him out. Even if he hadn’t done such work before, he was certain he could make a good mercenary. But Kylo had told him he wouldn’t do that, no more than he would sell Hux on the open market. Had Hux been in his place, he would have chosen either of those, the quickest and simplest ways to be done with the matter. Kylo, it seemed, would not do that, instead taking Hux to a market to buy him clothes and telling him he would find a job for him in his own business, whatever that entailed. Hux would have to be an idiot to believe that transport and trade were lucrative enough to support a private space station, but he would play along until he discovered what kind of work Kylo actually did.

That wasn’t all Kylo was hiding, either, of which his nightmares were evidence enough. Hux hadn’t known what to do when Kylo’s cries had woken him. He had come alert immediately, expecting violence, but there was no one else on the station save the two of them, and he recognized Kylo’s deep voice despite the despairing noises he was making.

Hux had crept out of bed and into the living space, hugging the wall and ready to strike if he was set upon. He found Kylo sprawled on the sofa, his left arm slung over his eyes as he thrashed and groaned. Hux had paused just a moment to watch him, uncertain if he could approach or say something to wake him, but then he had said it: _Snoke_. Hux had taken a step back as if the name could summon the creature to them.

The true name of the Supreme Leader of the First Order was not even known to all the troopers in the ranks. Hux had learned it as a boy; it was something his father had said that still lingered at the back of his mind. Snoke, the being who had taken a sect of Imperial loyalists on the fringes of the Outer Rim and made them into the strongest military power in the galaxy, was not someone anyone outside of the Order knew existed. And yet Kylo had spoken his name aloud, as if addressing him directly.

In part, Hux hoped that Kylo was First Order, but he was equal parts afraid that he was. If he was an informant, he could turn Hux in as a deserter; but a mere affiliate of the Order wouldn’t know the name of its leader. Whatever he was, Hux had even less reason to trust him now, and he absolutely could not reveal his own loyalties. _Former loyalties._

He clenched his teeth as he walked beside Kylo. This civilian life was what he had to accept now, distasteful as it was. He hadn’t wished for it; he had expected to spend his life in the Order, until he was killed or grew too old to fight. Now he was whatever Kylo told him to be.

The markets were a panorama of vibrant colors, from the reddish dirt of the narrow lanes through the stalls to the deep blues and greens of awnings above them. Red, white, and gold pennants fluttered from the peaks of tents, and no two wares for sale were the same. It was chaotic and boisterous: the very opposite of the clean, sterile lines of a First Order star destroyer. Hux was stunned.

“Hey.”

He found Kylo a few paces away from where he had stopped at the entrance to the market; he hadn’t realized that he had stuck to the spot.

An easy, indulgent smile spread across Kylo’s face as he hitched the thumb of his silver right hand into his pocket. “You won’t see it all if you stay there.”

Shaking off the awe, Hux went quickly to join him again, and Kylo led them into the din. The people in the lane swallowed them up immediately, pressing them shoulder-to-shoulder. Uneasiness rose in Hux as they cut through the thick crowd. He was used to sharing spaces—there was no privacy in the troopers’ barracks, and there were several thousand souls aboard a star destroyer—but so many bodies so close meant that a hidden blade could sink home before it was seen, or that pockets could be picked. And Hux didn’t care to be touched if his permission had not been given.

“Is it far to where we’re going?” he asked, loudly enough to be heard over the other voices around him.

“Just around the corner,” Kylo replied. Taking Hux by the elbow—Hux almost recoiled—he guided him past a Bith and her human companion into a smaller lane where there were fewer people. Hux took in a lungful of the free air.

The opening of the yellow-striped tent beside them yawned wide, and several pieces of clothing hung from a knotted rope between the supports that held the tent up. The fabric fluttered in the feeble breeze around a sign that read: _Tyrish’s_ _Emporium_.

“Here we go,” said Kylo, moving Hux toward the opening. Hux allowed it, crossing from the sunshine outside to the dim interior of the tent.

It smelled overmuch of incense inside, but the soaring peak above him made the space seen cavernous. Round, clear lamps stood around the nooks, illuminating the tent enough to make browsing the racks of garments possible; and there were many racks. Hux couldn’t discern if they were organized in any particular way.

“Welcome, welcome,” said a narrow-framed Gungan from near the back of the tent, spreading his arms wide. His fingers were adorned with gemstone-studded rings, and he was dressed in a deep red tunic embroidered with golden thread. His haillus, the dangling ears, were pierced along their entire lengths, small gold cuff earrings wrapping around the outer cartilage. “Come inside, friend, and let us dress you.”

Hux stayed where he was, uncertain, but as Kylo came in behind him, he greeted the Gungan: “Tyrish. Good to see you.”

“Ah!” the gungan exclaimed. “If it isn’t Barthok-An.” He looked Kylo over from boots to nose, scratching the end of his bill. “You’ve come for something new, I hope. I sold that shirt to you nigh on a year ago.”

“I love this one,” Kylo said, plucking at the soft material by his stomach. “And you know I’m a man of simple tastes.” He tipped his head toward Hux. “We’re here for him.”

Tyrish approached in measured steps, appraising Hux as he did. There were bells somewhere on his costume that tinkled with each step.  “What are you called?”

Hux replied with his name, cautiously.

“Hm, yes, Master Hux,” said Tyrish. “These are not your clothes. They fit you very poorly.” He clicked his tongue at Kylo. “You should not have let him outside looking like this, Barthok-An.”

Kylo shrugged, giving him a helpless look. “Didn’t have much choice, but I brought him here first thing. I know you can find him something much better.”

Tyrish sniffed haughtily: “Of course I can.” He reached for Hux, but seeing him tense, pulled his hand back and gestured back behind him. “If you’ll follow me, Master Hux.”

They went to the rear of the tent, where there stood a raised, hexagonal platform atop a soft orange carpet. A tri-paneled mirror reflected it back on itself.

“Step up here,” said Tyrish. “We’ll have to have you measured first.” Disdainfully, he glanced at Hux’s shirt. “Off with this. The trousers can stay for now.”

Hux tugged the shirt from his belt, pulling it over his head; Tyrish took it from his hands and discarded it on a nearby chair. From a hidden pocket, the gungan produced a length of fabric marked with what Hux assumed to be Gunganese characters.

“Arms out,” Tyrish instructed. “Stand tall. Very good.” He started with Hux’s waist, taking measurements while he muttered quietly to himself, before moving on to his chest and then the breadth of his shoulders. He measured the length of Hux’s legs and arms, the width of his neck. When he was finished, he bid Hux step down and sit in the chair on which the shirt he had taken off lay.

“Stay right there,” the gungan said. “I’ll select some things for you.”

Hux did as he was told, folding his hands in his lap and trying not to look at himself in the mirrors; he was sure he wouldn’t recognize himself. Kylo, who had been lingering by a nearby rack of clothing, came closer.

“Tyrish is the best in the market,” he said. “He’s a little extravagant when it comes to doing fittings, but if you let him work, you’ll have an exceptional wardrobe in no time.”

The notion of having a wardrobe at all was still difficult for Hux to grasp. He was used to having uniforms for sleep and exercise, training and battle, but nothing more. The array of garments in the tent was overwhelming.

“What did he call you?” Hux asked, turning his eyes up Kylo. “ _Barthok-An_?”

“Oh,” said Kylo, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a nickname. It means, ah, ‘black water.’ Loosely translated.”

Hux cocked a brow. “Why that?”

Kylo shifted his weight between his feet, pressing his lips together. “Well, it comes from how we met. See, I didn’t just happen to wander in here one day; I did a job for one of Tyrish’s suppliers. But it didn’t go very well. I was also hauling a shipment of deep-water nargels from Eria, and there may or may not have been a leak in the tank that got into a store of dye from the shipment. Half of the fabrics were damp and black by the time we got here to drop them off. Tyrish cursed me out for the black water, and it just stuck.”

“You ruined his goods and he gave you a nickname for it?” Hux said, doubting. “Surely he would never have let you work for him again.”

“Actually, I’m the fastest and most reliable transporter this side of the Outer Rim,” said Kylo, with no small measure of pride. “And black just happened to be in high demand that season. Tyrish made a killing.” He grinned. “I make sure not to haul nargels with the cloth anymore, but he won’t hire anyone else.”

Hux managed not to shake his head, but just barely. A trooper who had slipped up that seriously—or even an officer—would have been flogged for it.

“Are you always that lucky in your mistakes?” he said.

Kylo crossed his arms, eyeing him. “I don’t make many. You don’t do well in this business if you can’t see a shipment safely to the buyer.”

“Indeed,” Hux murmured.

Kylo opened his mouth to say more, but Tyrish reappeared before he could speak. The gungan carried a stack of clothing over his arm: trousers, shirts, tunics, and, if Hux wasn’t mistaken, some kind of robe.

“Here now,” Tyrish said, hanging the garments along a bar beside Hux’s chair. “We’ll start with these.”

Hux swallowed, eyes widening. There was already so much; he didn’t know where to begin. Fortunately, Tyrish ushered him into a curtained stall and pushed a set of trousers and a few shirts into his hands, telling him to try them on first and pulling the curtain closed behind him. Hux removed his heavy boots, setting them aside, before unbuckling the belt Kylo had given him and sliding the green trousers down over his hips; he didn’t even have to unfasten them, they were so loose. Unlike those, the trousers Tyrish had given him fit properly, as did the shirt he tugged on.

“Come out, then,” the clothier said from outside. “Let’s see you.”

Hux pushed the curtain aside and stepped out to where Kylo and Tyrish were waiting for him.

Tyrish offered his odd, billed smile once again. “Excellent, excellent. It suits you. Have a look.” He pointed to the mirror, and Hux reluctantly turned to see himself.

The shirt was finer than the one Kylo had lent him—a pale tan color with embroidery at the collar—and the trousers were brown. His hair stood out against the simple colors, burning bright. The expression he wore was still stern, but there was less severity about him in these clothes than the grey, white, or black the troopers wore. He could pass for a civilian after all.

“What do you think, then, Barthok-An?” Tyrish asked of Kylo. “Is he not handsome?”

Kylo smiled one-sidedly, meeting Hux’s eyes in the mirror. “He is that.”

Hux regarded him in kind, strangely pleased at the praise. Though Kylo had refused him that morning and the night before, there was genuine admiration in his gaze. And he had kissed Hux with unmistakable ardor before he had put a stop to it. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed.

“Well, on to the next thing,” said Tyrish, ushering Hux back toward the stall. “We have a great deal more to see.”

Hux spent the next hour, or perhaps two, dressing and undressing, showing each ensemble to Kylo and Tyrish. The gungan approved of most things, but some he dismissed and told Hux to set aside. Hux hadn’t the first idea about which combinations were acceptable, but he paid attention to those that were approved so that he could put them together again when he had to do so alone. By the time they reached the last of the garments, he was thirsty and tired of looking at his own reflection.

“Well,” Tyrish said when Hux came out of the stall wearing a pair of beige trousers with a burgundy stripe along the sides and a cream-colored shirt under an emerald-green tunic belted at the waist, “I believe that’s what you’ll be wearing today. The rest I’ll have packed up”—he glanced at Kylo—“and sent to your ship?”

“All of it?” Hux asked. The bar by the stall was nearly groaning with the weight of the clothing hanging from it.

“Sure,” Kylo replied. “Send it to Pad 15 at 1300. We’ll be back by then.”

Tyrish inclined his head, hand over his heart. “On your account, Barthok-An?”

“Not so fast, you old swindler,” Kylo said, raising a silver finger. “How much?”

Tyrish’s tongue darted out to wet the tip of his bill, but then he said, “Twenty-two hundred.”

Kylo barked a laugh. “Have you been at the barris root again? No more than fifteen hundred.”

“You insult me, Barthok-An,” said Tyrish, though he didn’t sound particularly affronted. “My craftsmanship is certainly worth two thousand.”

“Sixteen,” Kylo said with a shake of his head. “No more.”

Tyrish frowned as much as a gungan could, saying, “Eighteen.”

Kylo heaved a put-upon sigh—surely affected—and said, “Seventeen, or nothing.”

“Seventeen.” Tyrish extended his glittering hand for Kylo to shake, and that, apparently, concluded the deal.

Kylo nodded at him as he released his grip. “You would have charged anyone else twice that.”

“Three times,” said Tyrish. “Easily.” He turned to Hux and gave a shallow bow. “Master Hux, be wary of this one; he’s charming, but he’s got a bite if you’re not careful.”

“You’re damn right,” Kylo drawled. “But the teeth are only for cheating gungans and buyers who think they’re getting my shipments at half price. Especially if they’re one and the same.”

“Bah,” Tyrish groused. “That was _one time_.”

Kylo tipped his head to the side, conceding, but came back around to face Hux. “Come on. Let’s go get something to drink. And the dust matches should be starting soon.”

“Don’t bet on the reds,” said Tyrish. “They lost me half a day’s profits last week.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Kylo chuckled, setting his hand at the small of Hux’s back to usher him out. “See you next shipment.”

Hux squinted as they stepped back into the sunshine, though there were a few grey clouds in the sky now. The dark-colored tunic should have been too warm, but he found it was light enough not to overheat. He didn’t know what had become of the clothes he had worn before, but he assumed they would be sent back to the ship with his new wardrobe. Unless Tyrish had decided they were too old and tossed them sneakily away. It seemed like something he would do.

“The arena is at the center of the market,” Kylo said, pulling Hux along with him as he slipped into the flow of people making their way along the lane. “We should be able to get a decent place if we get there soon.” He still had not said anything about what these dust matches actually were, but Hux had no other choice than to go with him.

They wove through so many vendors and stalls that Hux couldn’t have found his way out if he had tried—and he had an exceptional memory for places. It was fascinating to see the textiles transition to electronic components, weapons, and droids, as if anything imaginable could be found in this place. For all the cities Hux had been in on his missions for the Order, he hadn’t experienced this mix of peoples and goods. He was grateful that Kylo could navigate it well, as he would have been at a loss for where to start or where to stop.

He hadn’t known what to expect when they arrived at the arena, but it turned out to be a twenty-meter pit lined with stone and surrounded by an energy-charged crowd. There were booths at both ends of the pit, the Zygerrians behind the counters handing out some kind of flimsi vouchers. The air smelled of dung and sawdust, but there was an overlaying scent of roasting meat that made Hux’s stomach growl.

“This way,” said Kylo, making for the nearest of the two booths.

There was a digital display hanging at the back of it, advertising several teams, all denoted by color: yellow, blue, green, the reds Tyrish had warned them of, and a series of numbers beside each.

“Those are the odds to win,” Kylo explained, pointing. “Looks like the golds are the favorites, but blue doesn’t look bad, either. Where do you want to put our credits?”

Hux had a rudimentary knowledge of gambling from taking bets on who would win in the training rooms on the _Finalizer_. His odds were always particularly good, and very few troopers bet against him when he was up for shooting. His hand-to-hand record wasn’t as impressive, but he had come out on top a few times and earned himself someone to clean his gear or five minutes alone in the refresher before the rest of his bunkmates came in. He had, however, never bet with actual credits.

“Green,” he said: a guess, really.

“Blue’s got better odds,” said Kylo. “But you can take green if you want.”

They pushed their way up to the front of the line, getting to the counter where the Zygerrian was waiting.

“Place your bets quick,” she said in a whiny, nasal voice. “They’re starting in eight minutes.” She snapped up the credit chit Kylo passed to her. “How much?”

“Twenty on blue,” he said, “and thirty on green.”

The Zygerrian tapped the chit against the reader, which flashed green, before handing it back to Kylo along with five vouchers. He grabbed them and pushed the three green ones into Hux’s hands.

“Hold onto those. You’ll need them if you win.”

Hux tucked them into the pocket of his trousers, keeping his hand there, too, just to hold them in. He followed close behind Kylo as he cut through the rest of the last-minute betters to find an open spot by the end of the pit. They weren’t right next to the edge, but they were close enough to see down into it. It was filled with dark brown wood shavings, and there were barred cages all along the interior walls.

“Is this an animal fight?” Hux said, not exactly alarmed, but taken aback. He had heard of the brutality of some fighting rings, and while blood was nothing new to him, watching animals tear each other apart for sport wasn’t appealing.

“No, not at all,” Kylo replied quickly. “It’s a ball game. The Cabourians aren’t sentient, but they’re trained to seek the ball and knock each other around to get it. It’s just rough-housing for them, not fighting.”

Hux looked hard at the cages, trying to see any creatures inside them, but they were too shadowed. “How many play at once?”

“Two three-man teams,” said Kylo. He pointed to the display mounted just behind the far side of the pit. “It’s red versus gold to start. They’re only ten-minute matches, so it won’t be long before blue and green are up.”

“It’s blue versus yellow second,” Hux said, reading the board. “Is it knock-out? If one team loses, they’re out of the running and the winning team advances?”

Kylo smiled, nodding. “That’s right. You catch on quick.”

Hux didn’t reply, but rubbed the folded vouchers in his pocket between his thumb and forefinger. It didn’t matter which team won; they weren’t his credits he was wasting. Still, he hated to lose at anything.

“Good morning, one and all!” cried an announcer from her place beneath the scoreboard. “Welcome to the Dust Pit. We’ve got six teams for you today, so I hope you’ve already placed your bets. It’s going to be a good one.” She pointed a long-nailed hand at the pit. “Gates away!”

Three of the cages sprung open and six four-legged reptiles with short, docked tails charged hissing out into the wood shavings. A ball the size of a small melon was dropped into the center of the pit, and immediately the Cabourians were on it, shoving each other out of the way to pick it up in their mouths. Their backs were painted with a stripe of color to denote their teams.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the match began, people urging their favorites on, waving their vouchers. Kylo still held his in his left hand, but he didn’t lift them up or howl with the others. Hux, too, stood quietly, watching with curiosity.

The Cabourians played hard, and, amazingly, were trained well enough to toss the ball between them. The gold team was outperforming the reds, as Tyrish had warned, scoring several points in quick succession. Half the crowd groaned as they passed the goal line once again, with a few curses interspersed. Near where Hux stood was a Togruta who clearly had a stake in this match, its fists balled as it called out encouragements.

When the buzzer sounded for the end of the match, the handlers jumped into the pit to herd the animals back into their cages. The gold team had won, and already betters were making their way to the booths for their payouts.

“Can someone make a living off of this?” Hux asked over the sound of shuffling feet and complaints at the loss of the reds.

“Gambling, or raising Cabourians?” Kylo said in reply.

“Both, I suppose.”

Kylo tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Well, it’s not a rich life, but having a farm can support you. There are probably more who earn their keep from their bets. If you get lucky enough, you can set yourself up for a Ryden standard year.”

Hux watched the screen by the booth light up both red and green as credits were exchanged. “The bets we placed were fairly small.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Kylo. “It’s basically nothing, but if we win, we might be able to buy ourselves a nice lunch after this. Speaking of...” He cast a brief glance around them, alighting on a vendor carrying a tray of bottles chilled in steaming dry ice. He waved the woman down, and she started over. “You like lata juice?” he asked.

Hux had never tried it before and said as much.

Kylo perhaps shouldn’t have been surprised by his vast ignorance of common foods, but his brows still went up. “It’s good,” he said. “Cold.”

The vendor took two bottles of thick, orange-colored liquid from her tray and handed them to Hux while Kylo paid. As he had said, the bottles were cold, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. When the vendor had gone away, Hux gave Kylo one of the bottles, watching how he tore the seal open before setting in on his own. Hux eyed it dubiously, but took a tentative sip. It wasn’t as sweet as the ration bars, and there was an acidic tartness to it, but he couldn’t deny that it was delicious as he swallowed it down.

“What do you think?” Kylo asked, the corners of his mouth turning up.

“It’s good,” Hux replied. “Remarkable.”

Kylo’s smile widened to show his slightly crooked front teeth. “What kind of gruel did the mercs give you before if this is ‘remarkable?’”

“Rations,” he said. “The cheapest we could find.” It was close to the truth, anyway.

“We’ll get something proper in you before we leave today, then,” Kylo said. “Oh, here we go; the next match is starting. Blue versus yellow. Let’s see how my boys do.”

They did well, as it turned out, soundly defeating the yellow team, which put Kylo in the running to win. Hux’s green team was in for the next match against black, and he turned his attention sharply to it.

He drank his juice slowly over the next few matches, savoring it. Kylo had long ago finished his and set the bottle down by his feet, but Hux didn’t mind his getting warm. The final match was about to start as he finished it: blue versus green, just as they had hoped.

“You’re going to lose,” Kylo teased, bumping Hux’s shoulder with his.

Hux shrugged. “They’re your credits.”

Kylo grumbled something at that, and Hux had to stifle his laugh.

The noise of the spectators was even louder now as the teams were released from their cages. Green made their move first, scoring before blue. But the blue team came back strong with three goals. Kylo ventured a cheer, and Hux, caught up in the fervor, cried one of his own. It seemed to bolster the green team, and they scored two, three, four times.

The clock was counting down quickly, the ten minutes almost spent, when blue made another goal, bringing them to a tie. With less than one minute remaining, Hux watched fixedly, tense. Just as the buzzer sounded, a green-backed Cabourian crossed the goal line to the sounds of a raucous roar from the crowd.

“Well, kriff,” Kylo said. “Looks like you put the credits on the right team. But I guess I can’t complain. I probably just won back the twenty I bet on blue.” He grabbed the bottles they had set down and made for the Zygerrian’s booth.

Hux turned in his vouchers for a total of eighty credits, which Kylo put back on his chit.

“What do you think about something to eat?” Kylo said as they followed the flow of people away from the arena. “There’s a cantina not far from here that serves the best beer and rotisserie Bantha in the city.”

“I’d like that,” said Hux, his hunger making itself apparent with a rumble.

Kylo laughed. “You’re easy to please. I can appreciate that.”

Hux had been in one cantina in his life, to do reconnaissance on a target. He had kept to the dark corners there, watching instead of joining the others at the bar or a table. His focus was on the Resistance operative he had been sent to assassinate, but out of the corner of his eye, he had caught sight of a man in burgundy by the stage where the band was playing a quirky tune heavy on the pipes.

He was broadly built and blond-haired, with a laidback grin that hit Hux straight in the gut. Hux had been no more than sixteen then and had been startled by his interest in the stranger. Neither men nor women in the trooper ranks had had any real appeal before, but this man Hux found mesmerizing. He had wanted to speak to him, though he wouldn’t have known what to say, but the mission came first.

Hux had followed his target toward the door, giving the stranger a last glance. Just as he was passing by, the man had looked up and met his gaze. His eyes were an astonishing blue, and reflected exactly what Hux couldn’t have: someone outside of the Order. Troopers did not have shore leave like the officers did; their only choices of partners were among their own ranks, and Hux didn’t fraternize. That man had been the first and, Hux had believed, the last person he would let himself desire.

Kylo was whistling tunelessly as they walked along the road at the edge of the Olmek markets, his stride swinging and loose. He his body wasn’t so different from the man in burgundy’s, though he was taller, if Hux’s memory served. And his coloring was the very opposite, but he drew the eye as the other man once had.

He had tended Hux’s wound gently that morning, his hands, both metal and flesh, seeing to him with careful touches. Hux had watched his dark head as he bent to remove the bandage and listened to him ask if it hurt, if he was removing it too fast. The First Order’s medics were brusque at best, sadistic at worst. The times Hux had had to visit them for vaccinations and physical inspections, they had looked at and treated him like an animal at auction: to be checked over quickly, stuck with needles, and then shoved off to make room for the next one. Kylo handled him more delicately than was necessary, but Hux had done nothing to hurry him up.

When he had gone to turn on the shower, Hux had watched him walk, admiring him as he had the man in burgundy. But Kylo he could speak to, could reach out for. And debt aside, he found that he wouldn’t object to going to his bed. He had removed his borrowed trousers and kicked them away, leaving him bare for Kylo to see when he turned back around. There was anxiety, of course, at revealing himself completely, but there was excitement, too. He wanted Kylo to look at him and see something he craved.

“Do you want to join me?” he had asked, coming to stand in front of Kylo, taking hold of his thin shirt and lifting it just slightly to feel the skin beneath. He had hoped Kylo would lay hands on him then, let Hux undress him and bring him under the water. He wanted to wash his body just to feel its unfamiliar contours.

But Kylo had taken him firmly by the shoulders and pushed him away. Hux, discouraged, had made a last, weak attempt to convince him that it would be simpler if Kylo just took what was on offer, but in the end it had made no difference. He had been guided into the shower and abandoned. Like the man in burgundy, Kylo was not to be had.

They stopped on the street outside an alcove into which a heavy door was set. There was no sign or name to mark it as a cantina, but as Kylo pulled open the door, Hux could hear the music and smell the thick cigarra smoke.

“After you,” Kylo said.

Inside it was hazy and dark, the few windows near the doorway covered with sackcloth curtains. The bar was semi-circular, filling nearly the entire building. A few chairs and tables were scattered around by the stage, where a four-piece band played, but most of them were empty. The door closed with a heavy _thunk_ , cutting off the last of the sunlight, and leaving Hux’s eyes to adjust to the dimness. A few of the patrons shot glances at him and Kylo as they sauntered up to the bar, but no one seemed in a hurry to accost them.

The bartender, a Genonosian with a scar across his face, set down the glass he had been wiping and leaned on the bar toward them. “What can I get you?” he asked, voice wheezy and syllables hissed.

“The house ale,” said Kylo. “And…” He paused to allow Hux to give his order, but Hux didn’t know what that would be. The troopers drank water.

“The same,” he managed to say.

The bartender went away to see to their drinks, allowing Kylo to lean in and say, “Their brew is pretty strong. Can you hold your liquor?”

“I believe so,” Hux lied.

Kylo clapped him on the back. “Good. You might have to pilot the ship back to the station if I have more than one.”

“I can’t—” Hux started, protesting, but Kylo cut him off: “I know. It’s a joke. I’ll get us back.”

The bartender put two pint glasses in front of them, the beer amber in color and frothed at the top. Kylo lifted his first in a kind of salute, gesturing for Hux to pick his own up when he didn’t right away.

“A toast,” Kylo said. “To my first crewmember.” He clinked his glass against Hux’s, and then drank. Hux followed suit.

The ale was bitter, and he barely managed to avoid spitting it out. It was far from the tart juice he had enjoyed at the dust match; it was heavy, astringent, and vile. He set the glass down hard on the plasteel of the bar, mouth pinched.

“Not good?” Kylo asked, clearly having watched his reaction.

Hux coughed, wishing for something to wash away the taste. “It’s...fine.”

Kylo lifted a single brow, unconvinced. “Right. Well, if you don’t want to finish it, they’ve got other things. You like whiskey?”

“Does it taste like this?” Hux said.

Kylo shook his head. “No. Fewer hops, more bite. A really great one burns on the way down.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “And you drink it by choice?”

“You get used to it,” Kylo laughed. He moved a bit closer and gave Hux a wink. “Can’t get drunk any other way, either.”

Hux watched him take another drink, this one deep, and ventured to pick up his glass again. He sucked his teeth, which still tasted of the ale, but then tipped the glass back and drank. It wasn’t as bad the second time, though the it still wasn’t exactly tasty. He swallowed heavily, his stomach roiling as the alcohol hit the emptiness there.

“You said something about food,” he said once he could breathe again. “Bantha?”

“Definitely,” said Kylo, flagging down the bartender again. To him: “Can we get two of the rotisserie wraps with extra sauce?”

The Geonosian grunted, pulling out a small notebook from his back pocket and scribbling their order down. He delivered the paper to the kitchen around the back side of the bar before going to see to other drinkers.

Hux looked around at them curiously, taking in the array of creatures. The First Order recruited only humans, and his contact with aliens had been limited. He wasn’t a xenophobe, but interacting with anyone whose eyes he had to fight to find was something of a challenge. Kylo seemed perfectly at ease among the mixed company, sipping at his drink while he surveyed those around them. He wasn’t the only one who was armed, Hux noted; a number of others around the cantina carried blasters. His fingers twitched at the absence of his sidearm, which he had modified to suit the quirks of his shooting. It was likely back in his locker on the _Finalizer_ , if it hadn’t been disposed of already in his absence.

He remembered clearing out the few belongings of one of his bunkmates who had been killed on a mission. It was done expeditiously and without grief, the items of clothing, armor, and weaponry taken to be broken down or refitted for use by another trooper. It was routine, and watching it happen, Hux had felt nothing. But there was something irksome in thinking that those with whom he had served would cast him off as easily, even if he had done the same.

“So, tell me,” Kylo said, calling Hux back to the present. “What kinds of jobs did you do with your mercs, before they cut you loose?”

Although not all of Hux’s work was so closely tied to the Order’s operations that he couldn’t describe a mission without revealing the most incriminating details, Hux would still have to answer carefully.

“There were all manner of things,” he told Kylo, “but some assignments were more memorable than others.”

“Go on,” Kylo prompted, running his fingers through the condensation on his glass. It was stuffy in the cantina.

“Well,” Hux began, “once we were sent to a world in the Unknown Regions to deal with...a rival merc company.” It had been a Resistance expeditionary contingent seeking to set up a base nearer to central First Order operations. Dangerous for them, but Hux had to admire their boldness. “They were pushing into our territory, and we had to oust them.”

Kylo snorted. “Merc rivalries.”

Hux played at being offended, hoping it was convincing enough to fool him. “We needed to keep our business running without competition. You can’t have another band taking your work.” He shot Kylo a look. “Surely you know that from your own operations.”

“Competition is inevitable in transport,” Kylo said, “but if you get a reputation, it does drum up clients for you. Guess it works the same way with mercs, right?”

Hux really didn’t know, but he assumed. “It does. And we had our reputation to protect.” He took another sip of ale, keeping from wincing this time.

“All right. So what happened? You take them down in a hail of blaster bolts?”

Hux huffed, haughty. “Hardly. It takes far more finesse than that. I spent two days observing them before the rest of my unit even deployed. I identified their leaders: those who, if killed, would leave the others to flounder. Without guidance, soldiers are listless. Some give up.”

Stormtroopers didn’t surrender, but the mercenaries they had faced before had laid down their weapons as soon as their leadership had fallen.

“I learned their habits,” he continued, “studied them until I could identify their weakest points. Those would be where my men— _the_ men—could attack.”

“Marksman and strategist,” Kylo said. “Impressive.”

Hux forced himself not to preen. He was _very_ good at what he did.

Kylo asked, pressing him to say more, “So, what were their weaknesses?”

“Sloppiness,” Hux replied, derisively. “A lack of discipline. They were cautious, but the leaders were far too friendly with their subordinates. That makes their organization and their soldiers’ autonomy even weaker.” He sniffed. “They would be easy to defeat. We decided a daytime assault would be suitable, so I ordered the rest of the men down at midday. There were ten of us and thirty of them.”

Kylo’s brows shot up. “What kind of odds are those?”

Hux gave him a cold smile. “The kind that I prefer. My unit was very capable.”

“You don’t say,” Kylo muttered. More clearly: “Did you take them down, then?”

“It took us eleven minutes,” said Hux. “The infantry approached from the west as a distraction while I shot from the south. Their commanders lasted barely three minutes, and the rest was a basic clean-up job. We took fifteen prisoners. Two of our men were shot, but nothing more serious.”

Kylo said, shaking his head, “Stars. You must have been something to see in action. I don’t know much about fighting, but I’d say that’s pretty damn extraordinary.” He lifted his glass. “I bet you had a steep price for your services, eh?”

“Of course,” Hux said, avoiding specifics. He didn’t know the going rate for hiring a mercenary company. “We did well for ourselves.”

Kylo hummed as he rolled a mouthful of ale over his tongue, and then swallowed. “To look at that armor you had, I’d say so. But if you were doing so well with them, why’d they throw you out?”

_Brendol Hux. My father tried to have me killed to sever his last ties to a kitchen woman, with whom he had spent one drunken night, and the bastard son with which she had saddled him._

“A disagreement about the direction of the company,” Hux said, hurriedly fabricating more of the recent past he had decided on for himself. “They wanted to take different jobs.” He tapped the rim of his glass with his thumb, seeing an opening to test Kylo. “They were offered work by the First Order.” He took a drink of ale, but watched Kylo all the while, waiting for a response.

Kylo set his glass slowly down, leaning his left arm on the bar. His tone was even and steady as ever as he asked, “And you didn’t want to work for them?”

Hux replied with a question of his own: “Would you?”

“Depends on what they were paying,” Kylo said, stretching his shoulders back with almost too-easy nonchalance. “I take a job if it’s in my interest. Doesn’t much matter who’s asking, as long as they offer good credits.”

Hux wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or disappointed. Maybe he had expected that Kylo would have certain scruples when it came to his business, but he couldn’t decide if working with the Order would be considered scrupulous or not. To many in the galaxy, they were a holdover Imperial cult that clung to dead ideals and should be disregarded, but others understood more clearly what kind of power they had and what they intended to do with it.

Hux believed resolutely that the Order’s rule would bring structure to a fractured galaxy, as the old Empire once had, but without the fundamental flaws that allowed the Rebellion to overthrow it. Even now that he was no longer a part of the Order, he was determined to aid its cause, even if he had to wait until after his life debt was paid—however long that might be.

“But you don’t agree,” said Kylo, gaze fixed on Hux’s face. “You wouldn’t take credits from the First Order?”

“They have soldiers of their own,” Hux said. “They don’t need to hire mercenaries to die for them. There were better uses for our company. Safer and more lucrative.” He paused, realizing how that might sound. He added, “I’m not a coward.”

Kylo reached across to him with his silver hand and laid it on Hux’s knee. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping yourself out of danger, if you can avoid it. Especially if it’s just a matter of pay. You don’t have to go down fighting for a cause you don’t believe in if you can make enough to support yourself elsewhere.” He squeezed Hux’s thigh. “I know something about leaving when you’re expected to go along with someone else’s plan.”

Hux glanced down at the glinting metal of Kylo’s fingers; they didn’t feel inorganic through the fabric of his trousers. “I didn’t want to go,” he said, quieter than before, and honest. “I belonged with them. But I had no choice.”

“Neither did I,” said Kylo, a distance in his eyes. “I was supposed to do something _completely_ different—live a whole different life—but after…” He released Hux to display his prosthetic. “After this, everything changed. If I had stayed where I had been before, the ones who did this to me might have come back for others. I had to leave to keep them safe.”

Hux watched him flex the fingers. “You said it was an accident.”

“It was,” Kylo said, setting his hand on his own knee. “At least I think so. They weren’t supposed to hurt me, just take me away.”

“Who?” Hux asked.

Kylo took a deep swallow of ale. “Enemies of my family.”

Hux knew he wasn’t saying everything, but he couldn’t fault him for not being forthcoming, when he himself was anything but. “Transport was your only recourse?”

“Not quite,” Kylo chuckled. “It’s a kind of family business. The _Falcon_ is my dad’s ship. He lends her out to me from time to time when he needs to borrow my freighter to look reputable.”

“It’s old, but surely not disreputable,” said Hux.

Kylo’s smile was sly. “It’s just when he flies her. He’s got a reputation in some circles.”

Hux cocked a brow. “Would I know him?”

“I doubt it.” Kylo gestured to Hux’s half-full glass with his own empty one. “You want something else?”

“Just water,” Hux replied. The ale was wet, but didn’t do much to quench thirst when he could barely choke it down.

Before Kylo could wave to him, the bartender reappeared with two paper-wrapped cylinders, both of which he dropped on the bar in front of them. The scent of spiced meat wafted up.

“Thanks,” Kylo said, sliding a credit chit over to him. “Add another ale and a glass of water to the tab before you charge it.” As the bartender went to the console to transfer the credits, Kylo pushed one of the cylinders toward Hux. “Go on. I think you’ll really like this.”

Hux took it—it was warm—and examined the paper, which was folded carefully to hold it in place. When he tugged at a corner, though, it gave way, and a stronger aroma rose. Inside was flatbread wrapped around a layer of shredded, fragrant meat over a bed of purple and green chopped vegetables and topped with white sauce. It looked unusual, but smelled delicious. Folding the paper back from the edge, Hux brought it to his mouth.

His eyelids nearly dropped closed in satisfaction as he tasted the mixture of flavors: seasonings on soft, chewy meat; a creamy freshness in the sauce; and the crunch and earthy sweetness of the vegetables. He was too caught up in it to be embarrassed to hear the deep sound of pleasure he made.

Kylo was grinning at him openly, his own wrap still lying on the bar. “What do you think?”

Hux couldn’t answer around his food, but he chewed it and swallowed heavily. “It’s Bantha, you said?” At Kylo’s nod, he continued, “It’s delectable.”

“I figured you might say that.” He unwrapped his own and inhaled. “It’s my favorite.”

For the next few minutes, they ate in silence, Hux concentrating wholly on his meal. He didn’t pause until he had finished it all and licked his fingers clean. Kylo worked somewhat more slowly, stopping to drink his ale, but he didn’t disturb Hux.

“You’ve got some appetite,” he said once Hux, full to bursting, had leaned his elbows on the bar and reached for the cup of ice water the bartender had brought him. “Did your merc crew starve you?”

“Something like that,” Hux sighed, too content to make up anything more elaborate.

Kylo finished off his ale. “Well, if you’re working for me, you’ll have all the rations you could want. And we can come down here and get a wrap whenever you’re in the mood.”

Hux eyed him, genuinely baffled. “Why does it matter to you what I want?”

“Why do you think it wouldn’t?” Kylo said, brows knit. “Just because you’re indebted to me doesn’t mean that you have no say in your keep.” He scratched the back of his neck with his flesh-and-blood hand, under his hair. “I want you to be okay here. With me. You’re not supposed to suffer through this.”

“Not everyone to whom a life debt has been owed has believed that,” said Hux, remembering more than one payment among the troopers that had been less than completely consensual.

A mix of enmity and pity—a strange combination—flashed across Kylo’s face. “What the kriff did they do to you?” he said.

Hux studied the rounded edges of the ice in his cup, wondering as he hadn’t before what the Order _had_ made him, with its ruthless conditioning. “We were taught to survive.” _And to serve._

“You’ll do that with me,” said Kylo, firmly. “I’m not going to put your life at risk.”

If Hux were to die in Kylo’s service, his debt would be paid in full. However, he didn’t think that was what Kylo wanted to hear, so he held the words back. Instead, he said, “You’re the first to tell me that.” When Kylo frowned, he added, “I’ve been a soldier since I was a boy. Being kept from harm is not something I know.”

“Are you going to hate it?” Kylo asked, crumpling up the wrap’s paper and setting the neat ball down beside his glass. “An easy life with a transporter? Nothing to shoot, no enemies to fight. It could be tedious for you.”

Hux shrugged. He would have ample time to mourn his past as they traveled through hyperspace on one of the many jobs they would no doubt be taking in the coming months. For now, he said, “I’ll make do.”

Seemingly satisfied with that, Kylo pushed back from the bar, dropping his feet onto the dusty floor. “We should be getting back. I’ve got some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“We have work then?” said Hux, sliding off of his own stool.

Kylo’s flinch was fleeting, but Hux didn’t miss it. “Yeah. A pickup in the Inner Rim. You don’t have to come, though; not this first time. You should take some more time to heal up.”

“I’m fine.” Hux lifted a brow. “You _did_ say it wasn’t a dangerous job. I’m more than able to manage something that isn’t active combat.” He was sure he could, in fact, go into a fight without much trouble, but that wasn’t necessary.

“All right,” Kylo said, resigned. “I’ll tell you about it back on the station.”

They went back out in the sunlight, which was burning even hotter and brighter in the midafternoon. Kylo didn’t dawdle this time, leading them briskly through the crowds, which parted for a man of his size. Hux kept pace, though he spared a last few glances for the city around them, as if he wouldn’t see it again. Were this a mission for the Order, it was likely he wouldn’t—they deployed on a world to work, and were then extracted—but Kylo appeared to know the place well, implying that he came here often. Maybe there was another Bantha wrap in the offing before Hux’s debt was paid.

There was a neat pile of plassteel cases on the landing pad when they arrived back, all of them filled with Hux’s new wardrobe. As Kylo keyed in the code to open the loading door, Hux went to retrieve the first of them to carry aboard. It wasn’t overly heavy or large, but Kylo swept in to take it from Hux’s hands.

“I’ll get these,” he said as he held the case easily. “You shouldn’t tear your staples.”

Hux pursed his lips, annoyed, but nodded. “Shall I wait for you in the cockpit?”

“Sure,” said Kylo. “Just, uh, don’t touch anything. If you power up the engines while I’m down here, you might kill me.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Hux said.

Kylo narrowed his eyes, but when Hux offered a small smile—an admission that it had been a joke—he grinned. “I’ll be up in just a minute.”

Hux turned and went up the platform into the belly of the freighter. He remembered the way to get to the cockpit, but he didn’t take it, instead making a turn to explore the other parts of the ship. Everything was narrow, winding, and weathered. It was the opposite of the clean, sharp lines of the _Finalizer_ , but the freighter—the _Falcon_ —was not a warship.

When he heard the whining of the loading door closing, Hux made for the cockpit, settling into the copilot’s chair and folding his hands in his lap. The clatter of Kylo’s boots announced his arrival, just before he swung into his own seat. His fingers flew over the controls on the console to fire up the ship’s engines, and she rumbled in response.

“Here we go,” he said.

Hux took hold of the armrests as Kylo guided the ship up and off of the landing pad, leaving Olmek behind them. As soon as they cleared the atmosphere the quiet of space enfolded them.

Kylo steered confidently, saying, “I figure when we get back, you can set up your clothes in your quarters on the station. Might want to pack a few changes for tomorrow, just in case we get caught up on the job. Sometimes they take longer than planned.”

“What are we doing?” Hux asked.

“It’s an unspecified cargo,” Kylo replied, sheepish. “Well, at least the most important part is. The rest is supposed to be grain to resupply some colonists in the Unknown Regions.”

Hux blinked once, surprised, but perhaps not completely caught off guard. “That’s not transport; that’s smuggling.”

Kylo tightened his grip on the yoke. “Ah, you might call it that. It’s not something I do all the time, but it pays.”

“I understand,” said Hux.

“You don’t have a problem with it?” Kylo asked, giving him a measuring look.

Hux shook his head. “I’m at your service, whatever that might be.”

“Well, all right, then.” Kylo leaned back in his chair, extending his long arms to reach the yoke. “Let’s get to work.”

Focusing on the starscape beyond on the transparisteel viewports, Hux saw the station and his near future take shape ahead.


	4. Kylo

Kylo changed the docking codes for the Ryden 2 station every galactic standard week to ensure that when he left and returned again, they were different. The series of numbers and letters were randomly generated, but when he meditated on them, they were secured in his memory until they were replaced with the next code. He gave them to no one else, not even the Resistance operatives who occasionally passed through the station. He made sure to be there when they arrived and to see them off again before locking everything down and wiping any record of their visit from the databanks of the station’s life support and security systems. As far as anyone who might hack them was concerned, it was only ever Kylo in residence.

And now Hux.

He was in the _Falcon_ ’s copilot seat while Kylo flew them back to the station after their morning planetside. Quiet and observant, he was looking at the instrument panels as if trying to decipher what each blinking light indicated. Kylo could tell him, of course, but they had only a short ride between Olmek and the station; a lesson would be more appropriate on a long haul, maybe like the one they would be taking to the Inner Rim tomorrow. It would be onto the Unknown Regions from there, easily an overnight; they’d have time.

Kylo keyed in the codes as they approached the station, guiding the _Falcon_ through the main docking door and inside the bay. As he set her down, he cut the engine and lowered the loading door with a hiss of depressurization. Tapping the comms, he called for the hauling droid: “T4-09 to the hangar. We’ve got cargo to unload.” The droid gave a few acknowledging whistles and beeps over the comm.

“Well,” Kylo said to Hux, “let’s get your things off the ship. We’ll have to carry them from the hangar, though. T4 can’t fit into the living quarters. Do you mind that?”

“No,” Hux replied. “I can get them.”

Kylo ducked out of the cockpit, hand on the headrest of Hux’s seat. “I’ll help. It won’t take more than a couple minutes.” He tipped his head aft. “Come on. Let’s go.”

T4 had already removed the boxes of clothing from the _Falcon_ when they stepped down from the freighter, and was carrying them across the hangar to the door. The droid was heavy and operated on rotary tracks. It had no distinguishable humanoid features—meant for this task and not frequent interface with its owners. Still, Kylo patted its side as he walked by, saying, “Thanks, T4.” It beeped and began to retreat.

There were three plasteel boxes—one bigger than the others—stacked and waiting for them. Kylo took the handle of the largest one, and Hux the other. Together they lifted it and bore it through the doorway into the hall. The central room, where the couches and chairs were situated, was about thirty paces from the hangar, and Hux’s room lay at the end of the corridor on the opposite side. The station wasn’t massive, but it was not particularly convenient to walk with the boxes, and Kylo tried not to wince as the bottom of the one they carried repeatedly hit the tendon in his ankle.

“You’re pretty well set for a while with all of this,” he said to Hux, looking back over his shoulder. “We won’t have to haul this much again.”

“It wasn’t necessary to buy so many things,” Hux said. “I could have made do with half of this.”

Kylo knew that, but as he had watched him try on the numerous trousers and tunics and boots in Tyrish’s shop, he had found Hux’s fascination with the array of colors and fabrics extremely endearing. Kylo had smiled at the wonder in his reactions, even if Hux had tried to appear unaffected. When it came time to negotiate a price, Kylo hadn’t bothered to ask Hux to decide which items he liked best; he bought them all.

Hux wouldn’t have seen it, but the curious look Tyrish gave Kylo at such a purchase for someone else—Kylo would never have spent so much on himself—had him averting his gaze for fear of betraying that he was doting on someone so blatantly. But it was obvious Hux had never experienced anything like the Olmek markets, and he had never owned clothing like he now had. Kylo liked the way Hux looked in the clothes, too, and try as he might to convince himself that he was just outfitting him as was necessary for a partner in his business, he couldn’t wholly lie to himself: he wanted to see Hux wear the shirts that made his hair look aflame and the trousers that followed the contours of long legs, up to a round—

Kylo stopped himself there, before he got carried away. He had rebuffed Hux’s advances, and intended to maintain the necessary distance to keep him from making another attempt, but it didn’t hurt to take good care of him, did it? And he had done. He hadn’t planned on taking Hux to a dust match, or to lunch in his favorite cantina, but he had seen Hux’s interest in everything around him and had wanted to show him more. He wondered what Hux was going to make of life as a transporter, or, as he had said as they left Ryden 2, life as a smuggler.

As they reached Hux’s room, Kylo tapped the keypad, and the door slid open to reveal the narrow bed across from it, and a wardrobe to the immediate left. He led the way to the wardrobe; they set the box down in front of it.

“You can start unpacking,” Kylo said. “I’ll get the other two.”

Hux, a crease between his brows, said, “I can help you. I’ll—”

Kylo shook his head, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it. Just get your stuff settled in here. I’ll be right back with the rest.”

Hux looked as if he was going to protest again, but his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Very well,” he grumbled.

Amused, Kylo turned back for the hall. He wasn’t halfway across the living quarters when 2-1H, the medical droid, appeared from the storage closet where it usually stayed when it wasn’t in use.

“Master Kylo,” the droid called, rolling to him. “I was hoping I could check in with Master Hux to make sure his wound is healing properly. Would he be amenable to that at this time?”

“You’d have to ask him,” Kylo said. He gestured at the open door to his room. “He’s in there, if you want to.”

“I shall,” said 1H. “I can give you a full report of his condition when I’ve completed my assessment.”

Kylo waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. He can tell me if something’s wrong.” Though Hux seemed the type to conceal pain if it wasn’t overly severe. “On second thought, go ahead. But just the short version.”

1H bobbed its head. “Very good, Master Kylo.”

Kylo watched as it rolled down the corridor to Hux’s room, hearing a distant greeting: “Master Hux, there you are!” Quirking a smile to himself, Kylo headed off for the hangar.

The two remaining boxes he stacked one atop the other and, lifting their considerable weight, bore them both. His prosthetic took most of the burden, but by the time he got down the hall, his flesh-and-blood arm was starting to ache. He stepped into the room, ready to see Hux, but he wasn’t by the wardrobe. There was clothing hanging in it, but he was nowhere to be found. Kylo was about to call for him when he heard his voice from the refresher.

“How long have you been on the station?”

1H, who was presumably with him, replied, “Only the four years since Master Kylo acquired it, but I’ve been with him far longer.”

“Is that so?” Hux asked.

“Oh, yes. His mother and father acquired me to serve him just after the accident.”

“When he was boy?”

“He thought himself a man by then, but he was only fifteen.”

Kylo stifled a laugh; he had very much considered himself grown at that age. He had been the oldest of the apprentices at his uncle’s school, and took that to mean that he could lord it over the others. They hadn’t appreciated it, but for the most part they had tolerated him. After the accident—after the creature called Snoke had sent his knights for him—they were wary of him. He heard talk among them that they didn’t want him to come back.

He hadn’t. Uncle Luke had tried to convince him otherwise, but after the long year Ben Solo had spent in rehabilitation, he had refused to return. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to study the ways of the Force—he did; it was for the sake of the other students. He was a danger to them. Snoke hadn’t gone away after Ben had turned his knights back; he remained at the fringes of his mind, always looking for a way through his defenses.

The power he offered was tempting to an ambitious boy, yet frightening, too. Ben would have had to abandon his family, even betray them, and destroy Uncle Luke’s New Jedi. He wanted to stand out and be great, but that came at a price he wasn’t willing to pay. So he had left his training behind and gone to work for his father, spending the next seven years aboard the _Falcon_ learning the Solo trade.

“Did he need a great deal of care?” he heard Hux say.

“Quite a bit at the beginning,” said 1H. “The wound was severe, and it took time for him to accustom himself to the prosthetic. There was irritation, too, and one or two infections when he didn’t keep it clean enough.”

Kylo remembered both of those times vividly. He had had to remove the arm for three weeks while the antibiotics worked and the skin healed. It had been frustrating to do everything left-handed, and he had ended up with a fair amount of food on his shirts as he tried to eat, but it was then that his father had taught him to shoot with his left hand. He had practiced with both after that.

“Does he do better now?” Hux asked.

“He does,” 1H replied. “I believe he is conscientious to remove the prosthetic when he bathes to keep the skin from getting irritated, though I haven’t asked him in some time. Perhaps I should inquire.”

“It can’t be exposed to water?”

“It can. He can swim with it if he so chooses, but it has to be removed occasionally.”

Kylo oftentimes slept without it when he was on the station, just to give his shoulder a break, but he didn’t make a habit of not wearing it when he had guests. Hux, he realized, was going to be staying far longer than any of those before him. He was in his employ, and he would likely see Kylo without it sometime. Kylo wasn’t fond of that prospect. Without the arm he was incomplete, vulnerable in a way he didn’t like. He was far from defenseless without it, but it had become a part of him. He stretched the fingers now, watching them unfurl without feeling any sensation.

“The mechanism is very complex,” 1H continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it, if that’s what you wish to hear about, Master Hux.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Hux. A pause, but then: “Has he always lived alone here? I can’t imagine that. Last night was the first time I’ve slept in a room alone in many years. Does he enjoy solitude?”

“Since he acquired this station he has operated by himself, yes,” the droid said. “I’ve never known him to complain about being on his own. He does converse with me sometimes. Perhaps those are the times he would rather have company.”

That much was true. After years spent in shared dormitories at his uncle’s school and years of close quarters on the _Falcon_ , he had been relieved to have space to himself. It did get lonely from time to time, but he found companionship planetside when he needed it, and did talk to 1H.

He considered what Hux had said about sharing quarters, assuming that First Order stormtroopers had barracks like any other soldiers. Hux would probably claim that he had lived aboard small mercenary ships—continuing his lies—but this was another moment where he slipped into revealing something that could give him away.

“He won’t appreciate me ruining that for him,” Hux said. “I don’t understand why he insists on keeping me here. There are simpler ways to pay my debt.”

1H hummed. “I can’t know his motivations, but I might suggest that he likes you, and that’s his reason.”

Kylo pressed his lips together, awaiting Hux’s reply. He wanted to know if he would approve or dislike Kylo’s interest in him. 1H was onto something with that guess, after all. Ex-trooper or not, Hux was intriguing.

“If that was the case, would he not have just taken me to his bed?” Hux asked.

“Oh!” 1H exclaimed, clearly flustered by the forthright question. “I, well, ah...Master Kylo has not chosen to share with me his, um, interests in partners, so I’m afraid I have no information on _that_ matter. However, I can say that it’s not common that he brings anyone to the station, or takes on help in his business transactions. I believe it could be safe to say that he enjoys your company. As a friend, perhaps.”

“I’ve not had friends before,” said Hux. “Comrades-in-arms, subordinates, but I considered none of them friends. I don’t know that I could to be that to him, if he should want that of me.”

It wasn’t wholly impossible for Kylo to relate. The other apprentices had been friendlier with each other than they had been with him. Uncle Luke had been his master; and his mother been just that, and a distant parent, letting motherhood come second to her role in the New Republic Senate. Han Solo was maybe the closest thing to a friend he had had, but Ben had still looked up to him too much for that. And by the time Ben was twenty-one, he had started to take his own jobs, bought his own freighter. They grew apart. Since then, he had been, as 1H had said, without many personal ties.

“I daresay it would be good for him to have one,” 1H said. “Do _you_ not like him?”

Kylo tensed, once again waiting.

“I’m grateful to him for saving my life,” Hux said, after a moment. “And it is decent of him not to sell me, even if it makes things more complicated for both of us. We met only a day ago. I’m not sure what to make of him. But he was kind to me today. And he smiles. That is...not objectionable.”

“Well,” said 1H, “that’s certainly a start. You’re all finished, then, Master Hux, and healing rapidly.”

“Thank you.”

Kylo took that for his cue, and cleared his throat. “Hux, are you in here?”

He stepped out of the refresher, shirtless and freshly bandaged. “Yes. I was just being seen to by the droid.” He amended, “1H.”

“Everything’s okay?” Kylo asked.

1H wheeled past, cheerily saying, “It is, Master Kylo. Master Hux is ship-shape. Is there anything else you require of me?”

“No. Thanks.”

The droid went away, leaving Kylo and Hux alone in the room, standing a few paces from each other. Kylo didn’t let his gaze linger on Hux’s bare chest, instead going to open the nearest box. Inside were two pairs of boots, one black and one brown. They were fashioned of buttery leather, real rather than synthetic. Tyrish didn’t deal in subpar wares.

“You, uh, need any help with this?” Kylo asked, looking up to meet Hux’s eyes.

Hux blinked at him once, as if assessing his offer, but said, “I don’t think so.”

Kylo gave a curt nod. “Okay. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He had their few dishes from the morning to clean up, but he wanted to let Hux settle in on his own. They would have more than enough opportunity to talk when they set off for the Inner Rim the next cycle. Turning on his heel, he headed out. He waited for the door to shut behind him, but he never heard it. At least Hux wasn’t locking him out.

In the kitchen, he put the mugs they had drunk from in the sterilizer, tossed the wrappers of their ration bars into the compactor, and then leaned against the counter, already finished. Dinner would consist of a ration of another sort, pulled from the conservator and heated. It was plain, but serviceable. Hux seemed easy to please when it came to food.

He didn’t seem to have a taste for alcohol, though. He had spurned the ale in the cantina, and hadn’t appeared interested at Kylo’s description of whiskey. Maybe it was something stormtroopers weren’t allowed, which seemed unduly cruel. Han Solo had a sophisticated palate for the cheapest swill in the galaxy, and he had passed it on to his son. Kylo made a good enough living to buy the better stuff, now, but sometimes there was still something nostalgic about Hutt homebrew.

He considered pouring himself a drink, but decided against it. There were preparations to be made for the job tomorrow, and he needed his wits about him. A thread of suspicion still shot through him, though, knowing that he had a First Order operative on his station. Even if Hux seemed docile enough in light of his life debt, Kylo had been raised to be cautious, maybe even overly so.

His father always had someone after him for one thing or another, and Leia had dealt with cutthroat politicians in the Senate. Her enemies had revealed the truth of her parentage, destroying her, and had succeeded in chasing her out of the New Republic. Only she had seen the threat of the First Order, establishing the Resistance to fight them. Ben had been twenty-three then, and had immediately lent his hands to the cause.

He shed the Solo name, making himself simply Kylo, a reliable, if impish transporter. It was an effective cover for his Resistance involvement, and it had allowed him to help his mother in ways that openly Resistance-associated operatives could not. He was one of her most valuable assets.

Going out of the kitchen and into the living room, he brought up the console on the table. The ghostly blue display showed the main controls and records for the station, including his aboveboard jobs. Tomorrow’s was to go to Venlor in the Inner Rim to pick up a shipment of grain for the markets on Ikel in the Unknown Regions. There he’d be offloading the grain and taking on ten crates of blaster rifles bound for D’Qar and the Resistance. He wouldn’t be delivering them to the planet himself; a Resistance freighter would come to retrieve them at the Ryden 2 station in a few days. It wouldn’t be safe to house them long on the station, and they were sorely needed on D’Qar.

Kylo typed a brief message to the grain supplier, letting her know that he would be arriving at around 1100 hours Venlor time. The transfer should be quick and simple, though the dealings on Ikel would be more complicated. He would have to find a way to throw Hux off the scent of the real purpose of the blasters. Stars, this arrangement was going to be difficult.

A reply to his message arrived with a _ping_ of an alert. His timeline was acceptable, and the supplier would be at docking bay seven to meet him when he came into port. Satisfied, he powered down the console and rose. In place of a glass of whiskey, he decided to make tea, something Uncle Luke had favored and Ben Solo had learned to appreciate.

The fittings in the kitchen had a dispenser for near-boiling water, so Kylo had only to take out the pot, put the leaves in—loose, old-fashioned—and fill it. He set it on the counter to steep, pulling two mugs from the cabinet and, taking a chance, took a spoonful of honey and dropped it into both. Hux seemed to like sweet things. When three minutes had passed, he filled the mugs, stirred the honey in, and headed for Hux’s room.

Kylo found him seated on the bed with the shoulder plate of his tactical armor in his hands. The wardrobe was open, revealing his neatly arranged clothing, but he was preoccupied with the armor. It was familiar for him, Kylo guessed, and putting it aside was maybe not as easy as he made it seem. That had been his life, his purpose, and it had been taken from him by his own men. Kylo hadn’t pushed far enough into his mind to discern their motivations—it was possible Hux didn’t know them—but Kylo would be surprised if he didn’t. Kylo couldn’t help but wonder, though he said nothing of it.

“I brought you some tea,” he offered instead, holding out a mug. “Interested?”

Hux set the shoulder plate down and came to take the mug. His fingers brushed Kylo’s metal ones, which Kylo didn’t feel. He sniffed at the tea and took a small sip; it seemed to pass muster.

“Thank you,” he said.

Kylo saluted with his own mug, looking at the bed, which was the only place to sit in the room. He watched Hux swallow, but he moved toward it, taking a place near the end to leave more than enough space for Kylo. He joined him.

“Seems like you’re all set up in here, now,” Kylo said. “I’ll take the boxes back out. Unless you want to keep one, for the armor. You won’t really need it, but if you want to have it—”

“I don’t,” said Hux sharply. “I’d rather get rid of it.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll take it.”

Hux was holding his plain white mug by the handle, the rest of it too hot to grasp, but Kylo held it by the body, the sensors in his hand unable to register the heat.

“There’s nothing else we have to do tonight,” he said. “We don’t leave for the job until tomorrow. I was just going to watch a holovid, maybe read something. I’ve got an extra datapad for you, if you want it.”

“I’ve heard of holovids,” Hux said, “but I’ve never seen one. Are they entertaining?”

Kylo shrugged. “Depends on what you’re interested in. Do you like big, over-the-top explosions and speeder chases, or something a little more slow-paced?” He smiled, giving Hux a wink. “Maybe a sweeping romantic vid?”

Hux pursed his lips, considering. “Is there one in particular you like?”

“There’s a few,” said Kylo. “Do you want to watch one with me?”

Hux nodded, almost bashfully. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Kylo grinned more broadly, pleased. “Okay. Let me just get this stuff out of here, and I’ll set something up.” He put his half-drunk tea on the bedside table and set about gathering up the boxes cluttering the room. He paused, glancing at the armor still piled in the corner. Hux followed his gaze and, rising, went to collect it. He dropped each piece into one of the smaller boxes, making a show of nonchalance.

“I’ll be right back,” Kylo said as he hauled everything out into the corridor. Stopping a few steps away, he looked back to make sure Hux wasn’t watching him. He wasn’t in view, so Kylo took the box with the armor and slipped into his own room with it. He wanted to keep it for Hux, even if Hux himself did not. It meant something to him, and there was an off chance he might want it again someday. Kylo had kept one thing from his past, too: Ben Solo’s lightsaber. He didn’t use it often, but it was a part of him that he couldn’t relinquish. Hux deserved to hold on to something as well. Tucking the box stealthily under his bed, Kylo returned to the corridor and the boxes.

Hux had come out into the living room when he returned from the hangar, and he had brought both mugs of tea with him. Kylo retrieved his from the table as he tapped the console again, bringing it to life. He had a collection of holovids he had bought over the years, but he didn’t have to search hard to find the one he wanted: a drama with a smattering of action between dialogs to mix things up. When he had it queued, he gestured to the couch.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Hux did, choosing the far side, away from Kylo. Kylo was only a little disappointed; he wouldn’t have minded having Hux close to him. However, he didn’t blame him for preserving the distance. The holo began just as Kylo sat down, and for the next couple of hours, they were lost in it.

 

* * *

 

The towel that hung around Kylo’s neck was damp with sweat as he finished his hundredth push-up. He did them almost every morning, along with lifting some of the free weights he kept in his bedroom. It took about an hour to go through the routine, and it kept him in good form. Occasionally he still performed the katas he had learned as an apprentice, but he needed more space than was available in his room to power on his saber; he generally worked in the living room by the viewports. He didn’t intend for Hux to see him doing that, however, not now; there would be far too many questions, none of which Kylo wanted to answer.

Mopping his brow, he got to his feet with the sole intention of making his first cup of caf. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw someone already in the kitchen; it took him a tense moment to realize it was Hux. He was eyeing the caf machine with disdain, arms crossed over his chest.

“Having trouble?” Kylo asked.

“Yes,” he replied, terse. “This should not be an unintuitive process, but…” He turned to Kylo, clearly irritated. “I can’t make it work.”

Kylo bit his lip to keep from smiling; he assumed Hux wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at. “Here, I’ll show you.” Hux made way for him to get by, and he demonstrated filling the reservoir with water, setting it into the machine, and preparing the grounds. It wasn’t difficult, but it wasn’t something that you could figure out easily, either, if you had never tried it before. “There,” he said, flipping the switch to brew the caf. “In two minutes, we’ll have it.”

Hux shot a disgruntled look at the machine, but he seemed mollified.

“Have you been up long?” Kylo said.

“An hour,” said Hux. “I’m not used to sleeping so much.”

It had taken Kylo a while to accustom himself to it, too. At Uncle Luke’s school, the apprentices had risen with the sun to meditate before going to breakfast, and they weren’t in bed before 2100, after their nightly saber training. In the hospital, Ben had slept more than he ever had. Kylo didn’t keep those long hours now, but he still rested more than he had as a boy.

“Well, now you know how to whip up some caf for yourself, if you keep waking up early,” he said.

They had stayed up fairly late the night before, watching three holovids before they finally pried themselves from the couch to retire. Hux had taken them all in raptly. He ate the dinner rations Kylo warmed up for them around 1800 hours, but he never took his eyes off the display. Kylo had spent almost as much time watching him he had the vids, charmed by his interest. If Hux had noticed his attention, he hadn’t let on.

Kylo poured the caf when it was finished. Hux, possessed of a remarkably good memory, went to the cabinet and pulled out two ration bars. He traded one for the mug of caf: cinnamon, seeds, and nuts.

“When are we leaving for the Inner Rim?” he said between bites of his bar.

“An hour, maybe?” said Kylo. “I just need to shower and calculate a course.”

Hux cocked a ruddy brow. “You chart your own courses? Doesn’t the computer do that for you?”

Kylo leaned back on the counter, sipping his caf. “Sure, but my dad taught me to do them by hand, too. I don’t need to, but it’s tradition at this point. A good luck charm for starting a new job.”

“Will you show me?” Hux asked, crumpling the empty ration bar wrapper in his hand.

“Absolutely,” Kylo replied. “I think I’d really like that.” He had good memories of plotting courses with Han, and had once or twice imagined teaching it the same way. He hadn’t expected to have the opportunity, but if it presented itself, he would take it. “I’ll just go clean up, and then we can head down to the _Falcon_. Go ahead and make yourself another caf, if you want to.”

Hux narrowed his eyes at the machine, making Kylo laugh.

“It won’t bite,” he said. “Or if it does, I’ll punish it accordingly.” He was rewarded with a half-smile. “See you in twenty minutes.” He ducked out of the kitchen and strode back to his room. As soon as the door shut behind him, he was stripping out of his shirt and loose trousers, leaving a trail across the floor to the ‘fresher. He turned the water on hot, jumping into the shower to wash the sweat from his skin.

Cleaned, shaved, and dressed, he emerged to find Hux sitting on the couch with a datapad in his hand. He was idly scrolling up, reading, and he looked at ease, one leg tucked under him and boots still on the floor. Kylo lingered at the wall, just watching him.

The Resistance operatives, even if they stayed overnight, never acted comfortably on the station. Most were stiff and formal with Kylo, whom they knew to be their general’s son. If they expected him to report back to her on their performance, though, they would be wrong. He had no place to criticize, unless they were impressively poor at their jobs or nearly got themselves, or him, killed. Fortunately, Leia chose her people well, and he had had no complaints in the years he had been working with them.

But Hux seemed like he belonged there, in the living room and on Kylo’s infrequently used furniture. It was strange how full the station felt with him in it, after just two days. Kylo had lain awake for a time last night, aware of someone else’s presence in his milieu. The air in the station was different, charged somehow. It might have been unsettling, but it didn’t set Kylo on edge, at least not in a way that implied he was in danger. His nerves were affected, though—heightened. He wasn’t blind enough not to recognize that for what it was: attraction.

Hux was alluring, both in appearance and in his naïveté. Kylo liked introducing him to things, showing him the world he had been removed from in the First Order, and he wanted to know more about him, but have it freely offered rather than plucked from his head by means of the Force. Hux hadn’t exactly warmed to him, but he wasn’t as obstinate as he had been when Kylo carried him into the station. Kylo took that as a victory.

Entering the room, he said, “You ready to go?”

Hux set the datapad down, unfazed, as if he had known Kylo was there the whole time. Maybe he had. He slid his feet into his boots and laced them. “I’m ready,” he said.

Kylo always sat at the table in the living quarters of the _Falcon_ when he drew up his courses. He had a datapad in the ship that easily interfaced with its navigational computer, which checked over his figures. But he rarely got them wrong; numbers came easily to him. As he took a seat, he patted the cushion next to him, inviting Hux to join him. This time they couldn’t sit apart; Hux had to look over Kylo’s shoulder to see the calculations.

He sank onto the bench seat, pressing his thigh against Kylo’s. Kylo could smell the clean scent of soap and a muskiness that belonged to Hux himself; he had all but tasted it on Hux’s lips two nights ago.

Kylo had learned to write with his left hand in the year he had spent in the hospital, so he took up the stylus with that hand and tapped the screen to display the star charts.

“Here we are,” he said, pointing out the dot labeled Ryden 2. The star system bore the Ryden name, too, which became obvious as Kylo zoomed out to show the third quadrant of the galaxy. “We’re headed here.” He traced a zigzagging course between systems, landing them at Venlor.

“Is it that simple to plot the course?” Hux asked. “Just trace across the map?”

“I wish,” Kylo replied. “Let me just pull up the a space to do the math…” For the next ten minutes, he showed Hux the figures required to make a hyperspace jump halfway through the quadrant. Hux observed it silently, until Kylo circled the final number and sat back with a triumphant “Ha! Nine parsecs. Should take about three hours to get there.”

“And now you just plug this into the computer?” said Hux, reaching out with his forefinger to touch the datapad lightly.

“Mmhm,” Kylo said. “Pretty easy, right?”

Hux shot him a glance. “Inefficient to do it yourself, but an interesting process, nonetheless. Thank you for showing me.”

Kylo set down the stylus and slid the datapad over to him. “You can try it, sometime.”

“You would trust me to set a course for you?” Hux said.

“The computer checks it. But you wouldn’t want us to end up in the middle of a sun or something, would you?” He gave Hux what amounted to a pout. “That wouldn’t amount to paying a life debt, if you and I both died.”

Hux huffed. “No, it would not. I do not intend to kill you, Kylo.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He stood and, taking the datapad, made for the cockpit. Hux took up the copilot’s seat while Kylo ran the computer’s check of the coordinates he had laid out. It approved them, and the navigational displays came to life. “I’ll get us out of here,” he said, “but then it’ll be autopilot until we reach the Venlor system.”

“All right,” said Hux.

With that, Kylo fired up the engines and guided the _Falcon_ out into the starscape. “You want to learn something about piloting?” he asked. “It’s not as hard as it seems, I promise.”

Hux sucked his teeth. “I never said it looked difficult.”

“No,” Kylo said, eyeing him sidelong. “You didn’t.”

Amending the coolness of his tone, Hux added, “But yes, I’d like to learn, if you’re willing to teach me.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Kylo, hands on the yoke, demonstrated how he could maneuver the ship. “Takes a little finesse, but you get used to it. Let’s start with the basics…”

As they shifted to autopilot, he engaged a simulation that would pass the time. Han had told him that you just had to get out there and fly to really get a feel for it, so he had thrown young Ben into deep water to sink or swim. He had offered pointers in the simulations, but never more than that. Fortunately, Ben’s talents were inherited, and he was quick to learn. He was just ten when he did the Kessel Run, Han’s most infamous performance. Ben had managed to do it in twelve parsecs, but not under. It wasn’t until he was eighteen that he did it in eleven and a half, even better than Han himself. His father had been a bit sour about it, but Leia had set him straight and he had clapped Ben on the back and told him he was proud. Han wasn’t free with his compliments, so Ben had relished that one for years.

“Okay, just ease it out now,” Kylo said to Hux, offering far more instruction than Han had. “Steady on the thrusters. Whoa, not so fast!”

Hux had hit it hard and left an energy burn in the back of the simulated hangar. If anyone had been inside, they would have been killed. He rocketed out into space, colliding with a nearby cruiser also in port. The display flashed red: “ _Simulation failed_.”

Kylo would have been frustrated at that, but Hux sat calmly as ever, simply saying, “May I try again?”

“Sure,” said Kylo, starting over. “Just take it a little easier next time, all right?”

“All right.” His hands were already on the yoke, his gaze trained on the display.

By the time the proximity alarm for Venlor sounded, Hux had successfully gotten the ship out of the hangar, through the busy spaceport, and out into the open. There were still a number of simulations to run through in terms of split-second steering and landing, but he was doing extremely well for a first-timer, and Kylo told him as much.

“I’d like to practice more, if you’ll allow it,” Hux said, letting the praise go unacknowledged.

“Of course,” said Kylo. “I could use a copilot, and if you like it, then all the better.”

Hux nodded. “I believe I do.”

Kylo took the _Falcon_ out of hyperdrive, bringing Venlor into view. It was a massive planet with eighteen continents, all with separate climates and fauna. The largest continent, Errud, was where most of the farms were. They supplied the entire system with food, and it was there they were bound. Kylo took over manual control and began the entry through the atmosphere.

“Errud Plains control, this is the _Millennium Falcon_ requesting permission to land,” he hailed them over the comm.

“You’re cleared,” said a droid on the other end. “Proceed to your destination.”

The main port was large and cluttered with transport ships. The _Falcon_ was far smaller than most of them. They landed at docking bay seven without incident, and made their way out to the loading dock. Kylo didn’t bother to stop and get his blaster; Venlor was far more civilized than Ikel, where they would be in a few hours.

There was a broad-shouldered woman with long blond hair standing at the edge of the dock when Kylo came down the ramp, Hux a pace or two behind him. “Mornin’,” she said in heavily accented Basic. “Right on time ye is. I’s got six hundred kilos o’ barley for ye. You’s got the space for it?”

“I do,” said Kylo. “Bring it on up.”

She inclined her head, turning to the sizable droid behind her. It moved toward the _Falcon_ , a large, sealed plasteel container in its loading arms. Kylo and Hux moved out of the way to supervise, and their supplier stood stoically and unspeaking across from them.

“Six hundred kilos doesn’t seem like much compared to the rest of these ships,” Hux said.

“It isn’t,” said Kylo. “This is a rare shipment. Barley isn’t common out here, and it costs triple was wheat or lorikseed does. The suppliers don’t give it to just anyone.”

The twist of Hux’s mouth was wry. “You’re very self-assured. Do you believe you can do no wrong?”

Kylo laughed. “Oh, I _know_ I can do wrong, and I have, but I take what I do seriously. I’ve got a good reputation; I told you that. You didn’t believe me?”

“I believe evidence,” Hux said.

“Fair enough,” Kylo conceded.

When the loading droid was finished, the supplier sauntered back over to Kylo, holding out her hand. “Half pay now, half pay when delivered.”

Kylo shook. “That’s what we agreed. You have the transfer account. It’ll be done by tomorrow your time.”

“Good,” she said. “Now go. I’s got another shipment to get goin’. Farewell.”

Dismissed, Kylo and Hux returned to the _Falcon_ , passing by the large storage containers. Within five minutes, they were back in the air and leaving atmo.

Kylo rolled his shoulders as they entered hyperspace, the bones popping and groaning. “We’ve got a few hours to kill. I’m gonna clean up my blaster. It’s been a while.”

“May I join you?” Hux asked. “If you have more than one firearm, I’d gladly clean one. I’m good at it.”

Kylo waggled his brows. “I’ll believe the evidence. Come on. I’ve got at least one spare for you to work on.”

He had several, in fact, most of which he had bought himself, but one—the one he usually carried—had belonged to his father. It was practically an antique, but he kept it in good working order, and it served him fine. He unlocked the weapons cabinet with his thumbprint and, reaching in, pulled out one of the smaller, newer blasters for Hux to work on. It hadn’t been used in a while, and wouldn’t take much effort to clean. Hux gave it one look and seemed to realize that, frowning. Kylo left him with it, though, pulling out his cleaning tools in their battered silver case.

He opened it on the table, but didn’t immediately reach for anything; he had to disassemble the blaster first. He was just preparing when he glanced over at Hux. His weapon was already in pieces, all laid out in an orderly square.

“Damn,” Kylo said. “I look away for one minute and you’ve already done _that_?”

“I told you I was good at it,” said Hux. He smirked. “Did you not believe me?”

Kylo shook his head, a mix of annoyed and charmed. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He began taking his own blaster apart as Hux took a cleaning rod from the case and slid it down the detached barrel.

“So, you learned to do this with the mercs?” Kylo said.

“Yes.” A simple reply, with no elaborate lie tied to it.

However, Kylo pressed on: “When did you join up with them? How old were you?”

Hux kept his gaze trained on the blaster, cleaning efficiently and with clever hands. “Young. I was raised with them.”

Kylo played along: “Really? That must have been a pretty wild life. I didn’t know mercs kept kids.”

“What better way to train someone?” said Hux. “Start them early and raise them up. But I didn’t go on any missions until I was a teenager. Before that it was just combat training and weapon maintenance.”

“What kind of combat training?” Kylo asked. “Hand-to-hand?”

“Yes,” Hux replied, taking the power cell of the blaster and inspecting it for defects. “It wasn’t my greatest strength given my body type, but I can hold my own in a fight, if I must.”

Kylo wouldn’t have minded seeing that, or maybe taking him on himself. He would bet that Hux was a scrappy fighter, the kind who bit and scratched. Smaller men had to use everything to their advantage. Kylo had always had his size on his side, though it didn’t make him a great fighter. After all, he had the Force, which was a truly unfair advantage in any hand-to-hand combat. He could choke a man out from ten paces.

“You ever make any credits that way?” he said. “Taking it to a prize fight?”

Hux snorted. “I wouldn’t lower myself to that. I’m not a barbarian, like the other—mercs.”

Kylo suppressed a laugh. Hux had a haughty streak, that was for sure—arrogant slip of a man. “Sorry I asked.”

“Are _you_ a fighter?”

“No,” said Kylo. “I’ll do it if I have to, but it’s not how I like to get things done. I’m not a barbarian.”

Hux set down the power cell, eyeing him. “I don’t think you are. If that was the case, you would have left me in that alley.”

Kylo sobered. “Nobody deserves to die on their knees.”

“That’s a noble sentiment,” Hux said. “I’m afraid not everyone thinks that. I might have been one of them.” He fiddled with the cleaning cloth he had taken from the case, not meeting Kylo’s gaze.

Kylo knew how ruthless the First Order could be, and if Hux had been indoctrinated into that mentality, he would be like the rest of them. Kylo had seen in his memories the glee with which he had killed the Bith woman; it wasn’t so hard to believe he was vicious. And yet Kylo wasn’t quite convinced of it. Hux wasn’t soft in the least, but there was humanity to him that the Resistance didn’t see in anyone in the Order. Maybe they had never looked closely enough.

“It’s a rough galaxy,” Kylo said. “It takes a lot to survive, if you’re not born into a comfortable life in the Core, or something stable in the Inner Rim. Nobody’s going to blame you for having sharp edges to deal with that.”

Hux looked up at him, intent. “You tend to find the best in people, don’t you? I’m not a good man, but...” He trailed off, and then: “You’ve treated me better than I deserve.”

Kylo stilled, surprised that Hux would admit he wasn’t justified in his actions, his career. “Hux,” he said quietly, “I don’t believe you’re inherently bad, even if you were brought up to be, well, coarse. You wouldn’t have agreed to pay a life debt if there wasn’t something good in you.” He gave a one-sided smile. “You could have just gone. I would have let you.”

“I know,” Hux said. “But I couldn’t let you. And”—he hesitated—“I’m glad it was you who helped me. _You_ are a good man.” There was color in his cheeks, rosy at this next admission.

Kylo wanted to reach for him, take his hand and press a kiss to the knobby knuckles. He would show him how he wasn’t like the callous troopers in the First Order, who might have allowed him to trade his body for his life. Kylo saw the contradiction in that desire paired with a kiss, but he couldn’t shake it. He wanted to file down Hux’s sharp edges, until he could hold him without cutting his skin.

But, he forced himself to just say, jokingly, “Thanks. I do try.”

The moment was broken, and Hux returned to his work with diligence. When he was finished with the blaster, he reassembled it deftly. Kylo pointed at the cabinet and told him he could help himself to another. Hux took it and began again.

 

* * *

 

They entered Ikel space two hours later, having cleaned every blaster in the cabinet. They didn’t say much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. When the proximity alarm sounded, they both returned to the cockpit, Kylo taking the yoke to guide them down to the planet’s surface. This port was smaller and dirtier, the kind of place where Hux’s fabricated merc bands would have operated. Kylo set them down on a rocky, makeshift landing pad. Opening the comm, he dialed in to the frequency the weapons dealer had given him.

“Identify yourself,” said the creature who answered the call.

“Kylo, trader. Here to see Atol.”

“Wait eight minutes, and then come to the platform. He’ll meet you there.” The transmission ended abruptly.

“Well, that’s that, then,” said Kylo. “Come on. We’ll head down now and wait in the cargo hold.”

He had kept his old blaster after he had cleaned it, holstering it on his hip, but he didn’t arm Hux, just letting him follow. He didn’t argue.

After their allotted time was up, Kylo opened the loading door to see a gang of five rifle-bearing goons. Their leader, Atol, was a hulking Aqualish male, carrying an array of weaponry on his person, from blasters to what looked like a curved knife with an eight-inch blade.

“Been waiting for you,” he said as Kylo approached. “You have the grain?”

Kylo didn’t have the first idea what weapons traders were going to do with high-end barley, but he figured it was to upsell the locals. He didn’t want to facilitate that, but they had paid his supplier for it, not him. He was just here to make the transfer and pay for the Resistance’s blasters.

“It’s here,” he said to Atol. “You’re free to unload it. Do you have what I ordered?”

The Aqualish growled, which Kylo assumed was an affirmative. “Ten crates. But we’ve got a problem.”

Kylo clenched his jaw. “What?”

“The price went up,” said Atol. “These are high-quality materials, human. They don’t come cheap.”

“We agreed upon a price,” Kylo said, stern. “Are you trying to change the deal?”

Atol adjusted the blaster belt at his waist, flashing the large blaster that hung there. “It was harder than we thought to get these through First Order territory. We didn’t expect that. We want payment enough for the trouble.”

Kylo resisted the urge to reach for his own sidearm. The last thing they needed was to get hostile. He and Hux were outnumbered by three: poor odds.

“I can give you two hundred more,” he said, “but that’s it.” The Resistance’s funds weren’t bottomless, and that would have to come out of his own reserves. He could afford it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Ha!” Atol barked. “Six hundred, at least, or the deal’s off.”

Kylo scowled, but they needed these weapons; it was pay or leave the Resistance in the lurch.

“Don’t take too long to decide, human,” said Atol, reaching for his blaster in earnest.

Kylo put up his hands. “Easy. I can’t just pull credits out of thin air. I need some time to get things together.”

Atol shook his head. “Now or never.” He bared his teeth menacingly, and moved to train the blaster on Kylo, but before he could even get it halfway raised, a bolt hit him in the knee. He collapsed with a yelp of pain. One of the men behind him lifted his rifle, but a shot punctured his shoulder, making him drop it. Kylo whirled to see Hux, deadly calm, with the small blaster he had been cleaning pointed at the rest of the goons. They warily lowered their weapons, clearly uninterested in being shot themselves.

“Anyone else care to renege on the deal?” Hux asked, steely.

Atol, gripping his wounded knee, replied, “Fine, all right. We’ll take the three thousand.” He glared at Kylo. “Just leash your dog.”

Two bolts in quick succession landed beside him, singeing the pockmarked ground: a warning, and an effective one.

“Hux, enough,” Kylo said. “I’ll make the credit transfer.” To the Atol’s men: “Get these cases loaded.” He paused, but then gestured at Hux. “One wrong move and you’ll get the same as the others. Got it?”

They nodded, scurrying to unload the grain and take the heavy cases of blasters aboard. Atol managed to get to his feet, wavering only slightly and clearly in pain. He grabbed one of his men, saying, “Get me to a medic, you scum.” The human put an arm around him, and together they limped away.

Kylo supervised the moving of the crates, indicating where they should go in the cargo bay. They were placed carefully by the men, who cast nervous glances at Hux. He still held the blaster at his side and kept his eyes on them. Anger simmered low in Kylo’s stomach at his reckless shooting.

Word would get around to other gangs in the Unknown Regions that Kylo was ready to use force in his negotiations. Leia wouldn’t like that; it wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile. But he couldn’t deny that Hux’s sharp shooting was damned impressive; and he had saved Kylo eight hundred credits. When he said he was an expert with blasters, he hadn’t lied. Kylo had been taught well, but he wasn’t that good; he had never seen anyone that good.

Still, Hux had acted without consulting him. He was supposed to be a subordinate crewmember, not take shots at the first sign of a deal gone bad. Determined to tell him that, Kylo stalked over.

“What the hell was _that_?” he demanded, using his scant two inches of height and his breadth to bear down on Hux. “You could have gotten us both killed if they decided to fight back. I didn’t give you an order to shoot. You’re not even supposed to be armed.”

Hux regarded him coolly, unintimidated. “He was going for his weapon. He might have killed you if you didn’t pay him what he wanted, and taken the blasters and your ship for himself.”

“That’s a big assumption on your part,” said Kylo. “He was just trying to threaten me. I could have handled it.”

“Swindlers shouldn’t be given leeway,” Hux said. “They need to be shown that extortion is not something you’ll concede to.” He lifted a contemptuous brow. “Or would you rather give in?”

Kylo’s temper flared at the insinuation. “I had it under control. And I won’t tolerate this kind of thing. You work for me; you do what I say.”

Hux blinked once, slowly. “I understand. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds.”

“You did,” Kylo said. He sighed, admitting, “But you _did_ put Atol in his place, the arrogant son-of-a-bitch. He’ll think twice before trying to pull that again. And...that was some incredible shooting.”

Hux’s lips curved up, proud. “Thank you. I was well-trained.”

Kylo hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “Maybe you could show me a thing or two sometime.”

“I’d be glad to.” He reached out and trailed his fingers up Kylo’s holster to the grip of the blaster, making Kylo’s pulse jump at the proximity. “You’ll need something better than this.”

“I like this one,” Kylo said, wholly focused on Hux’s face: the sultry curve of his mouth and matching flash in his eyes.

Hux moved infinitesimally closer, his hand still on the holster. “Keep it for posterity, but you should carry a weapon that suits your hand and your style. I’ll choose it for you. I know a good fit when I see one.”

Kylo’s throat worked as he swallowed. “You don’t know my style,” he said, quieter than he had intended.

“Not yet,” said Hux. “I’ll have to watch you shoot. Do you get nervous when someone watches you?”

Kylo never had before—he liked to show off for an audience—but he had an inkling Hux’s attention would feel different: fierce and judgmental. That definitely didn’t serve to put him at ease.

“I never have before,” he said. “Do _you_?”

Hux shook his head minutely. “I was heavily scrutinized in my training. I learned to put everything but the target from my mind. Nerves are not a concern.”

“Right,” said Kylo. “Maybe you can show me that, too.”

Hux’s smile grew wider, though still close-lipped. “That kind of singular focus is rare, but I’m curious if you’re up to the task.”

“Is that a challenge?” Kylo asked.

“Do you want it to be one?” was Hux’s reply. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, drawing Kylo’s gaze. He was so close. All it would take was an insistent hand at his waist to pull him in and taste him again. From the way he was looking at Kylo, maybe he wouldn’t object.

The blood in Kylo’s stomach dropped to his cock, body catching up to his imagination. Hux’s fingers were still on the grip of his blaster; it would just take a small shift from him to put them between Kylo’s legs. Another rush of blood filled him; in very short order it would be obvious that he was up for _something_. It took a considerable effort to step back, but he did. Hux’s expression hardened.

“I’ll book us some time at a firing range when we’re back on Ryden 2,” Kylo said, “and I can show you what I’ve got.”

“Very good,” said Hux flatly. “Shall we go, then?” Not waiting for Kylo’s reply, he started up the ramp and into the _Falcon_. Kylo strode after him, following him into the living quarters. Hux went straight to the weapons cabinet and replaced the blaster he had lifted.

“You can keep that,” Kylo said. “You should have something when we’re on a job.”

Hux tucked it back into the cabinet. “I’ll come get it when it’s needed.”

Kylo unholstered his own and held it out. Hux took it and put it back in its place, then he closed the cabinet. Kylo didn’t bother to lock it with his biometrics; if Hux was going to betray him, he likely would have done it already.

“It’s getting late,” he said, tapping his wrist chronometer. “We should get some sleep.”

“All right,” Hux said. “Is there a particular bunk I should use?”

There were three bunk spaces in the _Falcon_ : one near the lounge seat and two on the other side of the bulkhead, each with three bunks. Kylo occupied the former, so Hux could take either of the others.

“Whichever you want,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Hux nodded curtly. “May I make use of the head?”

“You don’t have to ask, Hux. You’re part of the crew now.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Very well. I’ll say goodnight.” He retreated, disappearing through the bulkhead door.

Kylo went past his own bunk for the moment; he had yet to get the ship off the ground and into hyperspace. He swung into the pilot’s chair and powered up the ship. Immediately, the alert for a waiting message began to blink and beep. It came in over an open channel, rather than the encrypted one the Resistance used, so he pressed the button to play it.

“Hey, kid,” said Han Solo, “been trying to reach you. I’ve got a job for you. Need you to meet me on Nati 5 as soon as you can. I’ll wait there until I hear from you.”

The message ended there: short and to-the-point, Han’s style. Nati 5 was in the Mid Rim, about eighteen parsecs away. It would take them half the night cycle to get there. Kylo didn’t like that Han hadn’t given any details about the job; that usually meant it was something for Leia, relayed through several channels to keep it disconnected from the Resistance. Still, it was Resistance business, and Kylo didn’t want to bring Hux into that. But they couldn’t divert to the Ryden 2 station first, if Han was waiting.

“Shit,” Kylo grumbled. There was no way around taking him, but he would have to stay with the _Falcon_. Unless his father planned on taking it back. He cursed again. Han couldn’t have waited another day, could he? Figured.

Resigned, Kylo keyed in the coordinates of Nati 5 and began the takeoff procedures. When they were safely in hyperspace, he leaned back against the headrest of the chair, looking up at the mess of components above. Han, nosy as he was, would want to know all about Hux, peppering him with questions relentlessly. Kylo would have to find a way to rein him in before he pushed too far; as much as Kylo wanted to know about Hux’s real past, spilling it to Han wasn’t his preferred method. And no doubt Han would run straight to Leia. Kylo wasn’t quite ready to face her with his new crewmate. He hated pissing her off, and this was bound to.

He exhaled in a rush. Hux was a burden, but Kylo couldn’t just get rid of him. And if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to. The way he had looked at him before came back into his mind’s eye, and he let himself dwell on it. _Honesty, right?_ Kylo wanted him. But he couldn’t bring himself to make a move, not when Hux could still be under the impression that Kylo was just taking what he was owed. No, if Kylo took him to bed, Hux would want to go. How to gauge that, though, was, for now, beyond him. It was best to just stay away.

Yawning, Kylo closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, reclining. He’d get up to go to his bunk soon enough, just after forty winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the illustration](http://littleststarfighter.tumblr.com/post/171635501803/kylo-hooked-his-thumbs-into-his-pockets-maybe) of Hux getting a hold of Kylo's blaster from this chapter. By [littleststarfighter](http://littleststarfighter.tumblr.com/), our artist and originator of the AU.


	5. Hux

The low humming sound of the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s hyperdrive should have lulled Hux to sleep—it was familiar, like that aboard the _Finalizer_ —but he was lying awake in his recessed bunk with his hands over his chest, staring at the metal above him. After he had left Kylo, he had gone to the head to brush his teeth, and had paused to look at himself in the mirror. He was dressed in a soft cotton shirt and dusky brown trousers: nothing like the black or white of the troopers’ standard-issue garments. He still felt strange in the civilian clothes, but what had happened that evening on Ikel had reminded him of what he was capable.

He knew that it had been wrong of him to take the small blaster he had been cleaning and conceal it in the waistband on his trousers, but he wasn’t about to go into a meeting with arms dealers without a weapon. And it had turned out to be a wise decision. The Aqualish had been fully prepared to draw on Kylo, threatening his life. After what Kylo had done for Hux, it was Hux’s duty to protect him. So he had acted. He was careful not to mortally wound anyone, but the bolts had been sufficient warning.

The rush he got from executing an exemplary shot had filled him, even as Kylo had stormed up and told him off for it. Hux hadn’t expected him to be upset, but he had been bristling with it, warning Hux not to do such a thing without his consent again. It might have been better to be contrite, but Hux hadn’t seen the sense in backing down against thugs. He never would have permitted them to demand a higher price; the First Order did not negotiate with common criminals.

However, he had given Kylo his word that he would not fire without leave again. Kylo had seemed content with that, his hot temper cooling as he complimented Hux’s ability with a blaster. Another wave of pride had surged up in Hux at that; Kylo’s praise wasn’t something he had realized he would value so highly. And it emboldened him. He had dared to step close and touch Kylo’s blaster where it was holstered along his thigh, telling him he could find one that suited him better than the antique he carried.

Hux had always considered choosing a weapon the forging of a partnership, and something of an intimate experience. He hadn’t been compelled to facilitate it for anyone else before, but he found that he very much liked the idea of selecting a weapon for Kylo and watching him fire it. Even more than that, in that moment he had liked how near he was, that it was mere centimeters that separated them. And he had seen it when Kylo had looked down from his eyes to his mouth. They had thought the same thing, surely: _How easy it would be to kiss you._

Hux wouldn’t have said that firing his blaster was an erotic experience, but it heightened his senses and suffused him with pleasure. As he had stood in front of Kylo, recognizing his interest, he had wanted to channel that pleasure into something he could share. He wanted Kylo to find his capability attractive, and to act on that. He hadn’t, in the past, been in the position to desire someone’s attention so strongly, but Kylo was introducing him to many things he had never previously experienced.

But then Kylo had stepped away, severing the connection Hux thought he had felt. The disappointment had been immediate, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Kylo had made it clear he wasn’t interested in Hux’s body, and any pursuit of him would prove fruitless. Hux couldn’t help the frustration, though, at craving something that he could not have. He wasn’t accustomed to that.

Rolling restlessly onto his side, he tried to get comfortable in the bunk, pulling the blanket up to his shoulder. It had a clean smell, but it was well-used, clearly having been aboard the freighter for many years. It was his father’s ship, Kylo had told Hux in the cantina on Ryden 2. That made it at least thirty years old, but Hux expected it had been flown for many before that. Perhaps Kylo, who had said transport was his family’s business, had spent some of his youth sleeping in this very bunk, under the same blanket.

Hux still remembered the big bed he had slept in on Arkanis: far softer and larger than any of the cots and bunks he had moved into after his father had sent him for conditioning and training. He was sure he would have slept poorly in it, now; it was too much for a trooper, and too much for a transporter’s crewman. He was glad of the simple accommodations he had been given, even if sleep still eluded him.

There was no requirement among the stormtroopers for sleep, so if he could not, he had only to get up and go to the common room to bide his time until he was tired enough to lie back down. Sometimes he cleaned his rifles, others he did calisthenics or ran a combat simulation. He had bested the most difficult sims years ago, but there were times when he returned to them. Given the chance, that’s what he would do now. He had the datapad Kylo had given him, but even its uncounted holos and books didn’t entice him.

Kylo had not forbidden him from leaving his bed, of course. He doubted he would incur any punishment if he got up and wandered the ship a little. Sighing, he tossed the blanket off and got up. He pulled on a pair of thick socks to keep his feet warm, but forwent his boots, leaving them by the door as he slipped out into the corridor.

He was a little thirsty, but instead of ducking into the head for a sip of water from the sink, he made his way to the living area, where the conservator was. “Help yourself to anything you want,” Kylo had said. Hux hadn’t expected to take him up on it so soon, but the allure of one of the bottles of fruit juice that waited in a rack inside of it was too much to pass up.

Light from inside the conservator bathed his face as he opened it and retrieved a bottle of pink juice. With due reverence, he broke the seal and unscrewed the cap. The first sip was delicious and sweet, and he went immediately for another. Before he had even paused for a breath, half the bottle was empty.

From there, he wandered to the lounge seat, sliding into a place behind the holoboard. There was a keypad at the side, where the user could select a game to play. He had been taught holochess as a boy, but hadn’t played in many years. With little else to do, he pressed the button and began a game against the computer. The alien pieces appeared in their appointed places, and he made the first move.

He lost within ten minutes, and irritably began a new match straight away. That went only marginally better, with the computer declaring victory after thirteen and a half minutes. Hux knew there were certain strategies and gambits one could use to win, but he had never learned any of those; his father had shown him the basics only. Nevertheless, he started another round.

His juice was long gone by the time he finally gave up—after losing his fifth game. It hadn’t done much to calm him for sleep, and he considered getting another bottle of juice, but decided that was too much for one night. He shuffled over to the trash compactor and slipped the biodegradable bottle into it, resigned to returning to his bunk. Maybe there was a manual on holochess strategies he could read.

As he was leaving the living area, he caught sight of the open door to the small room in which Kylo was supposed to be sleeping. Even in the murky darkness, Hux could see that the bunk itself was empty, untouched. Brows knit, he cast a glance around, as if he expected Kylo to materialize. But it was likely he wasn’t in this part of the ship. Last Hux had seen him, he had been bound for the cockpit, to get them off of Ikel and back into hyperspace. Certainly he wasn’t still there, just watching the blur of the stars as they flew faster than light between worlds. Hux started toward the fore of the ship.

The cockpit’s instrument panels were lit up with symbols and lights Hux couldn’t identify, even after his flying simulations. Those had been a challenge, and not something he took naturally to, but he found the challenge stimulating. He was looking forward to Kylo teaching him more. And speaking of him:

He was in the pilot’s chair, his head tipped back and eyes closed. One arm was thrown across his chest, gripping his shoulder, but the right one—metal—was hanging half off the armrest, palm up and fingers just slightly curled in. Hux could see that the fingers were padded with a grey, porous material that likely contained the tactile sensors Kylo had described. There were patches of the same material on the heel of the hand and just under the fingers: for gripping. It was a remarkable piece of engineering, a seemingly flawless integration with the rest of Kylo’s body.

Moving as quietly as possible, Hux approached to get a better look. It was too tight in the cockpit for him to stand beside Kylo’s chair, so he took the copilot’s place and, leaning on the armrest, bent to examine the palm. It was the only place Kylo could feel, he had said; the rest of the arm was numb. With careful intention, Hux reached out and set his fingers on the cool metal of Kylo’s wrist. He flicked his gaze up to Kylo’s face to see if he had reacted, but he slept on. So Hux felt along one of the ribbed joints, carefully exploring the surface.

He hadn’t thought much about it the last time Kylo had had it wrapped around him—that first night when Hux had come to his bedroom and offered himself—but he wondered now what it would feel like on his skin. He pressed his palm to the forearm, curling his fingers around as much of it as he could reach. The metal warmed under his touch, though it wasn’t nearly as heated as skin would be. It would be an unusual sensation to feel it against him, but he wouldn’t have shrunk back. He wasn’t put off by the piece of himself Kylo was missing; this arm had borne him from the _Falcon_ to the station, and had held him once before. There was nothing strange or disgusting about it.

Softly, he slid his hand up to the crook of the elbow and onto the bicep. It was slightly contoured to imitate muscle that matched the shape of Kylo’s left arm. Hux traced those rises and shallow valleys, his fingertips bumping over the ridges in the surface. It really was a remarkable feat of engineering. Hux wanted to hear more about the accident that had caused it. Kylo had been cryptic, other than saying that someone had come for him and unintentionally taken the arm. Hux found he wanted to know a great deal about Kylo. Stormtroopers had no childhoods to speak of, or stories of fathers and mothers, like Kylo had, and such things were fascinating to Hux. And yet he did not know how to ask, when he himself was keeping so many secrets. There would never be a fair exchange of information between them; Hux would always have to lie. He was sorry for it, then; he wanted Kylo’s trust.

The payment of his life debt didn’t seem such a burden, now. He was certain this life, for however long he lived it, would be comfortable enough. And surely Kylo would volunteer more information about himself in time. Hux glanced over his chest, where his flesh-and-blood arm rested, and down to his wide waist and square hips. He was impressively built compared to Hux’s leanness, and Hux couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be handled roughly by him: picked up or thrown onto his bed, held down by his considerable weight. Hux hated ceding power to anyone, but part of him desired just that. Dangerous: it was very dangerous to want such things. Looking at Kylo now, though, he couldn’t deny that he did.

Glancing back up to his face, Hux’s thoughts ground to a very sudden halt. Kylo’s eyes were open, and he was watching Hux with a hazy but clearly alert expression. Hux should have immediately drawn back and apologized for overstepping personal boundaries—but had he? Kylo didn’t appear offended to see Hux admiring him. Maybe even the opposite.

“Hi,” Kylo said sleepily.

Hux took a moment to find his voice. “Hello.”

Kylo shifted slightly, likely stiff from sleeping in a chair for several hours. “What time is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Hux replied, “but it’s been a while. Why did you stay out here?”

“Mm, just too lazy to get up.” He moved his prosthetic arm, making Hux realize he was still holding onto it. Hux still didn’t move away, and Kylo didn’t protest. “Did you need me for something?”

“I was just…” Hux hesitated. “Just didn’t expect to find you here. You’re all right?”

Kylo’s smile was slow and crooked. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” He turned to face Hux. “Company was a nice thing to wake up to.”

Hux knew he couldn’t feel his hand on the prosthetic, but he moved his thumb in a kind of stroke. He dared to lean closer. The distance between the chairs was far too wide to let them really get close, but Hux held his gaze and made an effort, hoping his intentions were clear enough.

Kylo lifted his left hand and set it over Hux’s, his broad palm spanning Hux’s narrow fingers. Taking it for invitation, Hux moved to get up and go to him. He was just slipping out of his chair when the proximity alarm sounded from the console. Both he and Kylo looked at it, but Kylo was the first to sit up and start pressing buttons.

“Looks like we’re coming into Nati space,” Kylo said, disengaging the hyperdrive.

A massive gas giant came into sight, filling the viewport. Around it were several small moons. Hux had expected to see Ryden 2, but they had clearly detoured elsewhere.

“Where are we?” he asked.

Kylo looked down sheepishly. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t tell you. I got a comm from an old swindler on Nati 5 who needs to see me.” He bit down on his lower lip. “I told you about my dad, right?”

Hux’s brows rose. “We’re meeting your father?”

“Yeah. He’s got a job for me, and I owe him one.” He was focused on piloting, guiding the ship toward one of the moons. As they came closer, Hux could see the lights that dotted the surface. “We’ll touch down, and then I’ll comm him,” Kylo said. “I just need a quick sonic and a change of clothes.”

“I’ll go put something on,” said Hux. He rose from the copilot’s seat, but stopped to ask, “Will you be needing me, or would you prefer I stayed here?” He didn’t want to stay; he wanted to meet Kylo’s father. But he would do so if Kylo ordered it.

Kylo seemed to consider for a few seconds, but then he said, “Go get dressed. You might as well come along.”

Hux suppressed a smile. “All right.”

He ducked out of the cockpit and made for his quarters to change. He went to wash his face hurriedly in the head before Kylo came for his sonic, and he combed his hair in order. He hadn’t realized how sleep-tousled it had been, and was vaguely embarrassed to have had appeared like that before Kylo.

When he came back out, they had landed in a busy spaceport and there was the noise of the sonic coming from the head. Hux sat down on the lounge seat to wait, detouring only to the weapons cabinet to retrieve his blaster. There was an extra thigh holster hanging inside, too. It needed some oil to soften up the leather, but he strapped it on over his trousers and slid the blaster into it.

When Kylo appeared, he had his hair tied up in a half-tail and a fresh look about him. He grabbed his own blaster, winked at Hux, and led the way out of the ship. As they stepped out into the spaceport, he said, “We’re meeting Dad at his—technically _my_ —ship. It’s not far.”

The traffic around the port was bustling, and they had to dodge several loading droids and a peeved-looking Barabel and his attendant Ergesh. They were caught up in the wind of another ship’s engines as it lifted off, and were once nearly separated. Fortunately, Kylo grabbed Hux by the arm and yanked him against his side as they cut through a crowd. They were still standing close to one another when they approached sleek freighter about the same size as the _Falcon_ , but of far newer design.

“This belongs to you?” Hux asked.

“Yeah,” Kylo replied. “The _Falcon_ is Dad’s, and I think he wants it back. It shouldn’t be too hard to transfer our cargo to the _Arrow_.”

They approached the loading door of the ship, finding a grizzled man whom Hux guessed to be in his early sixties sitting in a collapsible chair just outside of it. He was fiddling with a component of some sort.

“How many times have I told you not to pull apart my ship, Dad?” Kylo said, though there was no malice in his voice.

The man—unshaven, and scruffy for it—looked up and gave Kylo a smile that his son had clearly inherited. “Hey, kid. It just needs a little tune-up, I promise.”

Kylo shook his head, thumbs hitched in his blaster belt. “So, you mean I’ll probably have to undo it all the minute I get it back to Ryden?”

His father wrinkled his nose. “Watch yourself. I’ve been doing this for decades longer than you have.”

“Don’t give me that,” Kylo said, rolling his eyes. “Chewie taught me ship mechanics, and I know twice what you know.”

“ _Hmph_.” He looked from Kylo to Hux, seeing him for the first time. “Well, who’s this, now?” He got to his feet, abandoning the component on his chair.

“Han,” said Kylo, “this is Hux. He’s, uh, part of my crew.”

Han held out his hand. “Now _that’s_ a surprise: my son taking on a crew. Nice to meet you, Hux.”

Hux shook his hand, noting the tight grip. “Likewise. Kylo tells me he learned his trade from you.”

“Damn right, he did,” said Han. “I taught him everything he knows. Well, except ship mechanics, I guess.”

Kylo snorted and got a glare in return. “So, Dad,” he said, “what are we doing out here? I’m supposed to be back at the station for a drop and pickup. I don’t need to be late.”

Han’s gaze flicked to Hux again and then back to Kylo. Something that Hux couldn’t identify passed between them.

“Well,” Han said, “why don’t you two come aboard for a drink and we’ll talk about it.” He started up the ramp, leaving Kylo and Hux to follow him.

The inside of the _Arrow_ was clean and shone with newness, unlike the weathered _Falcon_. There was a similar living space, though, and they made their way there. Han popped the cork of a bottle of iridescent green liquid and poured three glasses. He pressed one into Hux’s hands, and Hux sniffed at it suspiciously. It burned his nostrils, not boding well for what it would taste like. However, he took a tentative sip. He had to force himself not to cringe as it spread fire over his tongue.

“I’m going to need the _Falcon_ ,” Han began as he swallowed a much larger mouthful of his drink. “You’ll have to go quietly on this job, kid, and the _Arrow_ is better suited.”

Kylo nodded. “Fine.”

From the pocket of his shirt, Han pulled a data drive. He handed it over to Kylo. “All you need to know is on there.”

Kylo slipped it into his own pocket. “I’ll take care of it. What else?”

Han shrugged. “Not much, but”—he shot a glance at Hux—“I’d like to hear a little bit about how you ended up with my son.”

“Dad,” Kylo warned. “This isn’t turning into an interrogation. I can take on crew if I want to.”

Han dismissed him with a wave of his glass. “Sure, sure, but you never have before. Can’t blame a man for being curious.” He grinned. “Plus, not everybody wants to get mixed up with people like us. You been in the business long, Hux?”

“No,” Hux said. “I’ve been with Kylo only four days.”

“A recent thing, huh?” asked Han. “Were you looking for a job?”

Hux chose his words carefully. “In a manner of speaking. My previous contract had come to an abrupt end. It was fortunate we ran across each other at that particular point in time.”

Kylo seemed to approve of his circumspect description of their meeting. He said, “It was, yeah. I figured I could use some help after all.”

Han addressed Hux: “It’ll be good for him to have someone else to work with. I always had a copilot with me, and he watched my back.”

“Is he not here?” Hux asked.

“He’s running some errands for me. Should be back in a few minutes.” He took another drink, swirling the liquor in his glass. “He’s been with me a long time. Way before Kylo was even born. You planning to stay on for a while?”

“I believe so, yes,” said Hux. He glanced Kylo. “For as long as he’ll have me.”

Han narrowed his eyes slightly, gaze shifting between the two of them, scrutinizing. Kylo buried his reaction in his glass, and Hux averted his eyes. Han smiled a little too knowingly for Hux’s taste. Hux was afraid he was assuming something about their connection that was not the truth. He regretted his choice of words.

“Well,” Han said, “it’s good for him to have some company, especially some that’s easy on the eyes.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Kylo snarled. “Mind your own damn business.”

Han, unperturbed, chuckled. “Okay, okay.” To Hux: “Want to hear a story about him? Something really embarrassing?”

Kylo groaned. “Why are you like this?”

Hux forced himself to take a drink, and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible when he said, “Go ahead.”

Han slapped his thigh. “That’s the spirit. Well, let me think of a good one. Hm…it was back when he was about seventeen. We were on a run in the Outer Rim, and he was thinking he was going to negotiate the deal with—”

“Stars, not this,” said Kylo.

Han shot him a smirk. “Yes, this. Now keep quiet; you’re ruining the story.” He leaned his elbow on his knee, focused on Hux. “We had an arrangement with some Hutt traders. Not the slavers, mind you, but I have a bit of a history with them, and so Kylo figured he’d take the lead on the deal. He’d never done anything like that before, so he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

“I stayed aboard the _Falcon_ while he set off for their operation, but he had a commlink in his ear so I could hear the deal and give pointers. He didn’t think he needed them, of course, but did he ever.”

Kylo crossed his arms over his chest, petulant, but said nothing to the contrary.

“When he got there,” said Han, “he learned it’s customary to share a couple of drinks. Now, we can hold our own when it comes to the stuff, but he was a skinny kid and they were seasoned drinkers. Took about a half hour for them to really get into it, and already he was feeling it. I was trying to get him to toss the shots over his shoulder, but he was convinced he could still handle the deal with four or five in him.”

“It was seven,” Kylo grumbled. “I’m not that pathetic.”

Han waved a hand. “All right, seven. In any case, when they finally got down to business, this kid was reeling. I was trying to talk him through it, but he was muddling everything I said. It was the Hutts’ plan, of course, to swindle him like that. He held out, though, which I was pretty impressed with, and managed to get a price set. They were just standing up to shake hands and end the deal when his stomach turns and he throws up every one of those _seven_ shots right onto the trader’s feet.”

“You laughed at me over the comm,” said Kylo. “Asshole.”

Han reached out to pat his knee. “We’ve all been there, kid. They still held up their end of the bargain, even though you had to mop up the mess yourself.”

Hux dared to look at Kylo, who downed the rest of his drink in one as if to prove he was better at it now than he had been then. Hux pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

“Still can’t stomach Endorian vodka, can you?” Han chuckled.

Kylo glared. “No, Dad, I can’t. But you did get me some for my birthday the next year.” He repeated, “Asshole.”

Han sat back in his seat, seemingly very satisfied with himself. “It could have been a disaster, but you managed the deal, kid. I was proud of you. That’s how I knew you were cut out for this and not—”

Kylo silenced him with a look, though Han let slip, “Oh. He’s not one of your mother’s.”

“No,” said Kylo. “He’s mine.”

Hux blinked, startled by the intensity with which he said it—a claim. He had never objected to belonging to the First Order, but belonging to Kylo? Thinking of his life debt, he couldn’t deny that he did. Whatever Kylo wanted of him, he would be obliged to give.

Hux wanted to press: _Is there something I should know?_ But he held his tongue.

“Anyway,” Han said, “I’ve got a hundred of these stories. You want to hear another, Hux?”

Kylo was quick to counter: “He’ll pass. We need to get going. You have a loading droid to move the cargo over?”

Han nodded curtly. “Sure thing, kid. Where are you docked?”

Kylo told him, and he rose to order a spaceport droid to take care of the transfer. He said he would oversee it while Kylo and Hux explored the port.

“It’s not a bad place. Have a look around and then come and say hi to Chewie before you go.” Han grinned. “He’s not quite as red as you, Hux, but he’s got a nice head of hair on him.”

“For stars’ sake, Dad,” said Kylo. “Just leave him alone.”

Hux really didn’t consider the ribbing anything to mind, but Kylo seemed easily annoyed by his father, who, in reality, was very much like him. They both teased and charmed.

“All right, all right,” Han said. “Go get something to eat, or get another drink. This transfer will take a few minutes, and Chewie will want to see you. It’s been months, kid.”

“Okay. We’ll be back in an hour.” Kylo pointed a finger at Han. “Don’t ransack my ship while you’re moving cargo.”

Not wanting to be rude, Hux drank the rest of the liquor he had been given, though he could imagine if he had another glass he might have done just as Kylo did at seventeen. He wasn’t cut out for hard drinking.

He followed Kylo and Han out of the _Arrow_ and onto the landing pad. Han left them there, headed for the _Falcon_.

“You hungry?” Kylo asked.

“We seem to do a great deal of eating and sleeping,” Hux said. “Don’t we have something better to do while we’re here?”

Kylo shifted his weight back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, what would you rather do, then?”

Hux didn’t really have a proper idea, though he didn’t want to admit it. “We can eat, fine, but maybe we could just…look around. Have you been to this moon before?”

“A couple of times. Dad does a lot of work here.” Kylo tapped his prosthetic fingers against his forearm. “We could walk along the wharfs. You ever been by the ocean?”

“Arkanis has lakes,” said Hux. “But I’ve not seen a saline ocean.”

“Well, that’s what we’ll do. And there’s something to eat there, too. Come on.”

The spaceport was massive, covering acres all around them. Hux assumed they would be walking a great deal to get to the wharfs, but Kylo hailed a speeder taxi. He opened the door for Hux and let him climb in first. They were both slammed back against the seats as the speeder accelerated down the street.

“Half of this moon is ocean,” Kylo said as they rode. “The rest is mostly the spaceport. It’s a trade hub more than anything. There aren’t actually any boats at the wharfs; they just call them that. It’s actually a pretty nice part of town, if anywhere on this rock can be called ‘nice.’ You ever been sailing?”

“As a boy,” Hux said. There had been a large lake on his parents’ estate on Arkanis. He had learned to swim in it and had sailed in the boat his father owned. “But not since. Nobody sails here?”

“No. The sea’s a nightmare of undercurrents, and the tides are erratic. It’s just nice to look at when you fly over.”

The taxi stopped curbside in a district lit by halogen lamps and neon signage advertising restaurants, bodegas, and what looked to be houses for playing cards and dice. Hux might have spotted a brothel. The streets weren’t as packed as they had been in the Olmek markets, but there were still a number of people milling around, some arm-in-arm with bottles of some kind of liquid in their free hands.

As soon as Hux stepped out, he could smell the brine of the sea on the cool wind that blew from over the water. It was sharper and more acrid than the muddy foliage scent of Arkanis. Nati 5 didn’t have the dampness that pervaded everything on his homeworld, either. Aside from the ocean itself, it was dry.

Kylo paid their fare while Hux looked around, but when he was finished, he came to Hux’s side and said, “It’s not all that great, but it’s maybe something you’ve never seen before.”

“No,” said Hux. “It’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”

Kylo nudged him forward, toward an alley between shops. “You want to have a look at the water?”

Despite knowing that this place was not Utel Gamma, Hux hesitated at the mouth of the alley. It was dark and narrow, as had been the one in which he had nearly died. Fear was not something he could afford, but he tensed, stilling at the edge of the shadows.

“Hey,” Kylo said, close to his ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His hand went to the small of Hux’s back, gently urging him on. Hux’s first step was halting, but then he caught his stride and ventured into the darkness.

When they came out the other side, he felt better, and found he was looking out at the black expanse of the ocean just beyond the wharf. The tips of the choppy waves were white and frothy, crashing into one another and plunging back into the water below. It seemed endless, dipping off the edge of the horizon into nothingness beyond.

“It’s something, huh?” said Kylo.

“Yes,” Hux said. “Striking.”

“Dangerous, too.”

Hux could only imagine how easy it would be to drown in the inky ocean. In the distance, he spotted a man drunkenly teetering at the edge of the wharf, walking along it like a tightrope. His companions egged him on from a nearby bench, waving their bottles and clapping their hands.

Kylo, following his gaze, said, “There are droids all around here to fish out anyone who falls. He’ll be fine. Maybe a little damp, but fine.”

Hux looked away, back toward the strip of storefronts, many of which had tables outside, where patrons could eat and drink as they watched the swell of the water. “Do you want to stop for food?” he asked.

Kylo laughed. “Hungry at last. Okay. Let’s get something.”

They decided on a restaurant that served steaming noodle soup, taking seats outside. It was too hot to eat right away, so Hux followed Kylo’s lead and stirred the noodles around in the broth for a few minutes.

“Sorry about my dad,” Kylo said as he began picking at the noodles with chopsticks. “He harasses everybody, but you got the worst of it because it _is_ new that I took you on.”

Hux hardly considered what Han had done harassment. He had memories of humiliating dressings-down by his drill sergeants as a young trooper. They had picked out every flaw he had, from his hair to his flat feet, and berated him for it, told him he was pathetic. That was true abuse. Han had been joking.

“You take after him,” Hux said.

Kylo groaned. “I know, but don’t let him hear that. I’ve spent years trying not to be Han.”

Hux stirred his noodles again. “I never wanted to be like my father, either.”

Around a mouthful, Kylo said, “No? What did he do?”

“Threw me away,” Hux replied, giving voice to what he had always known but never spoken aloud to anyone, especially not the troopers. “I had been replaced by a better child. A legitimate child.”

Kylo’s brows went up. “In what culture does legitimacy matter anymore? It’s archaic.”

“Mine,” said Hux. “Bloodline matters a great deal. My brother was my father’s legacy. I was unneeded, tainted.”

“So, he sold you to mercs?”

It was close enough to the truth, though the life Hux had lived had been far more severe than that. “Yes. He thought I would die with them. I wasn’t a strong child. I wasn’t sick, but not hardy, either. He didn’t expect me to survive for long.”

 “But you did. You thrived.”

“I did. I was the best”— _in the Order_ —“and knowing that, he couldn’t let it stand.” Hux was venturing close to divulging too much, but he continued, “He’s been trying to have me killed for years. Accidents at first, but this last time…he almost succeeded.”

Kylo was focused solely on him, food forgotten. “He got First Order stormtroopers to try to kill you?” At Hux’s nod, he exclaimed, “Karking hell! Your own father?”

“He hates me,” Hux said. Before he thought the better of it, the words left his mouth: “But I’m going to kill him.” When had he resolved that, he wondered. Maybe in this very moment. But he knew it was true. When his life debt was paid, he would find Brendol Hux, and he would kill him.

Kylo rubbed his hands over his face. “You know for sure it was him?”

“Yes. There’s no one else who could have ordered those troopers to do it.”

“Stars, they were _right there_. One more minute and you would have been dead.”

“Now do you understand why I owe you such a great debt?” Hux asked. “You spared me from my father and, with my life, gave me the chance to destroy him.”

It would be treason to slay a member of the high command, but Hux had already deserted. He could take his father down with him—maybe even his brother, and end the Hux line completely. Presumed dead, he would someday return to the First Order as a wraith and see them both spaced, even if he went with them.

“Is that what you want to do when you’re free of me?” Kylo asked. “Find your father?”

“It is.”

“Do you know where he is? Arkanis?”

“Not anymore,” said Hux. “He’s in the Unknown Regions. It will take work to locate him, but I will.” He could be on any number of star destroyers or worlds. Hux would look, though, until he found him.

Kylo took a deep breath, looking down at his half-empty soup bowl. Hux waited quietly, unsure what else to say. When Kylo finally turned his eyes back up, he said, “You’re not the only one who wants revenge.” He flexed his right hand; the colored lights of the restaurant’s marquee were reflected in the sliver. “I want to find the one who did this to me, and make him pay. And his master, too. But I don’t have the first idea where to find him.”

“You said a name in your sleep,” Hux said. “Snoke. Is that him?”

Kylo seemed to deliberate, but then said, “Yes. He’s been in my head since I was a kid, trying to get me to come to him and...learn.”

Hux wasn’t sure what that would entail, but he didn’t press to know.

“How do you know his name?” Kylo asked.

“He is the Supreme Leader of the First Order,” Hux replied.

Kylo’s shock flashed immediately across his face, his eyes widening and then narrowing, mouth agape. He looked down, cradling his head in his hands. Hux was afraid he might ask how he knew that, but he said nothing, not for at least a full minute.

Finally: “The First Order. He wanted me to serve them.”

Hux said, “But you’re opposed to them?”

“Fundamentally. I was raised to hate everything they stand for. They’re the successors of the Empire, and in my family that’s contemptible.”

“I see,” Hux murmured. So, it came to this. If Kylo ever discovered that Hux was former First Order it would destroy the beginnings of trust they shared. It was likely he would cast Hux out, life debt or no—if he didn’t just decide to kill him. Hux thought the better of that; he couldn’t see Kylo as the kind to kill.

“I should have known Snoke would support their cause,” Kylo continued. “Even if I couldn’t assume he was their leader. He wanted me to betray my family and what they taught me to believe, all for greater power.”

There, again, was something in Kylo that he was concealing—something concerning his past and what drew the Supreme Leader to him. Snoke sought beings and allies who could strengthen the Order. If he believed Kylo was that, there was something special about him that he had not revealed to Hux.

“But you refused,” Hux said. He gestured to Kylo’s arm. “You fought.”

“Yeah,” said Kylo. “I almost died for it.”

He fell silent, and Hux didn’t speak, either. He pushed his soup bowl away; his appetite had gone.

“We should get going,” Kylo said after a glance at his wrist chronometer. “Dad’ll be done with the cargo by now.”

“All right,” Hux said.

They left the dishes for the service droid to retrieve, and Kylo caught them another taxi. Hux sat quietly, trying to imagine what Snoke could have seen in a smuggler’s son. By all accounts, Hux should hate Kylo, now that he knew he opposed the Order’s goals. But he found that he didn’t. He had more affinity for Kylo than he ever had for the troopers he had been raised alongside. He could lay blame perhaps on how kindly Kylo had treated him—he had not been handled with care in his life—but there was more to it. Kylo inspired loyalty with his jokes and his generosity, all of which stood upon a foundation of capability at his trade. He had accepted Hux into his life readily, upon Hux’s insistence that he stay on and pay his debt. It had changed so much for him, but he took it all in easy stride. Hux could never have done that if he had been in Kylo’s position.

Venturing a brief glance at him, Hux saw his profile silhouetted against the flashing lights outside the taxi’s viewport. Hux imagined tracing the slope of his nose with his fingertips, down from his brow to where it met his lips. Hux would have crept into his lap in the cockpit earlier, setting his knees on either side of Kylo’s thighs and sliding his hands into his hair. He would have kissed him deeply and told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted him. It was not a matter of debt anymore; it was just what Hux desired. He wanted to make that perfectly clear, and would have in that moment, had the proximity alert not sounded. He wasn’t certain another opportunity like that would present itself.

“Here we are,” Kylo said as the taxi pulled up next to the _Arrow_ ’s landing pad. Han was once again in his chair, though this time he was in conversation with a towering Wookiee. They both turned as Kylo and Hux approached, and the Wookiee came charging toward them at a lope. It swept Kylo up into an embrace, lifting him off of his feet.

“Hi, Chewie,” Kylo managed.

The Wookiee replied in its own language, which Hux couldn’t understand, but Kylo and Han clearly could.

“I know,” said Kylo. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been busy.” Chewie made a sound of protest, so Kylo added, “Honest, I’m sorry. I should have come by the Inner Rim while I was there.”

Chewie seemed to forgive him, setting him back down. Kylo tugged at his shirt to straighten it and ran his hands over his hair.

“Hux,” he said, gesturing him over, “this is Chewie. He’s my…uncle. Hux is my new copilot.”

Hux held out his hand, which Chewie looked at disdainfully before saying something to Han.

Han laughed. “That’s what _I_ said. But I think it’s a good thing. A man gets lonely on long space flights.” He winked at Hux.

Chewie made a braying sound, throwing his head back in what Hux could only assume was a laugh.

Kylo was red in the face, glaring between his “uncle” and his father. “ _Enough_.”

Han grinned, and Chewie bared his teeth.

“Can we just get on with this?” Kylo said. “We have to get back to Ryden.”

“Sure thing, kid,” said Han, rising. He hitched a thumb back at the now-full cargo hold of the _Arrow_. “Everything’s aboard.”

“What about our personal effects?” Hux asked. He had left his in his cabin on the _Falcon._ Chewie pointed at the two bags lying at the foot of the loading door. “Ah. Thank you.”

“We didn’t go looking for your diary or anything,” said Han. “Promise.”

Despite himself, Hux laughed.

“Make sure to take care of that job soon,” Han said to Kylo. “You know your mother doesn’t like to wait. You get that from her.”

“I’ll handle it,” said Kylo. “See you later, Dad.”

 Han took a step closer, as if to embrace him, but then held out his hand. Kylo shook it. When Han came to Hux, he also shook, clapping him on the shoulder as he did.

“Take care, Hux,” he said. “And watch out for my son.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Come on, Chewie,” Han said. “Let’s get back to the _Falcon_.” They left Kylo and Hux standing in front of the loading door as they sauntered away. They made an odd pair, Wookiee and human, but they clearly knew each other well.

“They’ve flown together for a very long time,” Hux said to Kylo.

“For as long as I’ve been around, and years before that,” Kylo said. He came to face Hux. “They have the same story we do. Chewie came on because of his life debt.”

Hux balked. “And they’ve been together since?”

“Yeah, but don’t think you have to do that.” Kylo lowered his voice. “You’ve got things to do when you’re done with me, right?”

“My father will keep,” said Hux in earnest. “I’m in no hurry to leave you.”

Kylo looked at him intently, as if trying to puzzle him out. “I guess Dad’s right,” he said. “It’s good to have someone along after all this time.” He smiled one-sidedly. “Just don’t _tell him_ he’s right, okay? He’s already puffed up enough.”

“I will say nothing,” Hux promised. “You have my word.”

Kylo reached down to retrieve his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll show you around the rest of the ship.”

 The _Arrow_ was narrower than the _Falcon_ , its layout more oblong than circular. The cargo bay took up most of the rear of the ship, leaving very little space for the forward living quarters. They passed through the lounge where they had sat with Han before—Hux saw that the bottle of green liquor and their glasses still sat on the central table—and around the bulkhead to a square cabin that housed four recessed bunks.

“This ship really isn’t designed for a big crew,” said Kylo, “so we’ll have to sleep together in here.” He gestured to the starboard bunks. “Top or bottom?”

“I’ll take the top,” Hux said. “Are we meant to sleep now?”

Kylo shrugged. “You can if you want to. We didn’t get much rest before, and we’ve got a pretty long ride back to Ryden. I might get some shuteye. But let’s get off this rock first. You want to see how this ship runs?”

“I’d like that very much,” said Hux.

The cockpit at the nose of the freighter was as small as the _Falcon_ ’s, but the interfaces for piloting were far less complex. Kylo explained that modern ships didn’t need as much fiddling to fly.

“The _Falcon_ ’s something else,” he said. “I’ve never flown a bird like her.”

Hux took the copilot’s seat, though he folded his hands in his lap rather than reaching for the yoke.

“Here’s the main ignition,” Kylo explained, pointing to a yellow button at the center of the console. “You have to flip the repulsor switches on first, but then you can fire her up. You try it.”

Hux moved three small switches into their “On” position before depressing the ignition. The _Arrow_ ’s engines came to life—far quieter than the _Falcon_ ’s. They barely registered after the initial start-up. Hux had no particular attachment to the _Falcon_ , and decided he preferred this ship to that. He was already looking forward to feeling how she actually flew.

“Okay,” Kylo continued, “you’ve got to open up the throttle here”—he patted a lever under the ignition—“and ease her up off the ground. Give me your hand.” As he did, Kylo guided it under his gloved right hand on the lever. “Just move it back nice and slow.” As he pulled down on the lever, Hux could feel the minute movement it took to get the _Arrow_ off of the landing pad. “We’re going to go straight up for about two hundred meters to clear the other ships, and then we can speed up.”

They left the ground behind, the viewport confirming the assent that Hux otherwise couldn’t feel, it was so smooth. As they rose up past the other landed freighters and transports, Kylo began to narrate again.

“We’re clear. Take hold of the yoke.” With his left hand he transferred control from the primary interface to the copilot’s.

Hux grasped the yoke in front of him tightly, nervous as he had not been in the simulations. “You’re going to let me do this?” he asked.

Kylo grinned. “You can. It’s not hard. I’ll talk you through it.” Hux focused his attention on what he could see outside, hoping Kylo was right. “Okay, get her nose up a little, until you can see the clouds.”

Hux pulled back on the yoke with ginger care. The _Arrow_ tipped up.

“Good,” said Kylo. “Hold her there. I’m just going to give it some power. Just keep her steady.” He drew back on the throttle again and the ship began to move forward. Hux, white-knuckled, held course. “Tip her up a little more. Good. Some more power now.”

The _Arrow_ sped up, leaving the spaceport behind as they ascended. Hux’s heart was hammering, but it wasn’t all nerves. There was elation at his success, even if Kylo was still leading him along.

“Bring her up about forty more degrees,” Kylo said. “That’s it. _Whoa_! Right there. We’re going to get up to speed to get out of atmo. You think you can handle it?” His left pointer finger hovered over the switch to return control to his side of the cockpit. “If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” Hux said.

“All right. Hang on.” Kylo pulled hard on the throttle and the _Arrow_ raced into the sky. Hux held onto the yoke with desperation as they tore through the cloud cover and up into the lower atmosphere. It was perfectly clear ahead of them; there was nothing for him to be afraid of. As they burst out into the star-speckled sky, the noise of the wind died and all was silent.

“Well done,” said Kylo. “We need a few hundred miles’ clearance and then we can put her into hyperspace.” He squeezed Hux’s shoulder. “You’re a pilot now.”

Hux finally dared to breathe again, though he still kept hold of the yoke. “I believe I have a few more of those to practice before you can call me that, but I’m willing to do so.”

“You’ll do great.” Kylo released him and flipped the main control over to his side. With practiced ease, he opened up the throttle even more as he keyed in a number of commands into the computer. It beeped in response, displaying Ryden 2 in a hologram over top of the console. Kylo engaged the hyperdrive and the stars blurred around them.

Kylo yawned wide, not bothering to cover his mouth. “Okay,” he said, “I’m definitely going to sleep. Feel free to stay up if you want. The ship is yours.”

He swung out of his chair and wended his way back to the their quarters. Hux hesitated to go, instead watching the stars for a few minutes. He was a bit tired, but not enough to sleep yet. Still, he ventured into the cabin to retrieve his datapad. Kylo was sprawled out on the lower bunk, shirtless and barefoot, and already breathing heavily in sleep. Hux slipped out again without waking him, going to the lounge and tucking himself into one of the chairs.

He powered on the datapad and began to sort through the books he could read. There were hundreds of thousands on the holonet, and he wasn’t sure where to start. However, a new release caught his eye: _A History of the Rebellion and the Founding of the New Republic_. All the history he knew of the Rebellion had been filtered through the Order, and he realized that the perspective of others might differ quite a bit. It was likely just New Republic propaganda, but he tapped the datapad to bring up the book. The first chapter was titled “Heroes of the Rebels.” He began there.

Unsurprisingly, it started with Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan turned Rebellion general and then New Republic senator. Hux knew a little about her, but the section gave a number of details about her role in the destruction of the Empire’s superweapons and her mobilization of the Rebel forces. She was made out to be a bold leader, though not without fault. The author of the book told of a few failed missions that had hindered her cause. Some of them involved her twin brother, the infamous Jedi Luke Skywalker.

Hux had only a vague understanding of the mystical power called the Force, and to him it seemed like a legend more than a concrete concept. He had never seen anyone use it, or even heard of anyone who could, aside from the figures who were equally legendary, like Skywalker and Emperor Palpatine. He didn’t necessarily dismiss it completely, but he would have preferred to see proof of its existence.

The chapter continued to detail the twins’ exploits, which Hux grumpily read, skeptical of their veracity. The Order didn’t deny that they had been the crux of the Rebellion, but to the troopers, they were villains who had acquiesced to disorder.

Scrolling to the next page, Hux froze in shock. The heading read “Han Solo” and the picture below was of a young man with a scoundrel’s smile that was immediately recognizable. There, though about thirty years younger, was Kylo’s smuggler father, with a medal around his neck.

Hux delved immediately into the description of his role in the Rebellion, and how he had worked closely with Organa and Skywalker on his famous ship, the _Millennium Falcon_. But there was no mention of a son. Hux supposed that made sense, if Kylo was born out of wedlock.

_“In what culture does legitimacy matter anymore?”_

Hux had the impression that Han was the kind who would father an illegitimate child. However, instead of casting him aside, he had raised Kylo, at least after whatever had happened with his arm as teenager. Still, there was no denying that Kylo, who was asleep just on the other side of the bulkhead, was of Rebel stock.

Hux put down the datapad, overwhelmed. He had just shared a drink with a Rebellion general and flown in the ship that had helped bring down the Empire, the legacy of which the First Order was meant to uphold. He had gotten his wish to know more about Kylo, but he never would have suspected this.

Did Han Solo still have ties to the New Republic? Did Kylo do their bidding, too? By all accounts, Hux shouldn’t conscience serving him if he did, but there was no way out of this situation unless Hux decided to kill him and run. It made sense to the most ruthless part of Hux, and yet he knew he couldn’t do it. He was inextricably tied to Kylo now, and stars help him, he would pay his debt, even if it meant betraying everything he had been brought up to believe.


	6. Kylo

The boy is sitting cross-legged on a thin cushion, the sea breeze ruffling his short hair as he breathes steadily: _count eight in, count ten out_. These times are meant to clear his mind and draw his focus to the raw Force, and they do; but there is an undercurrent of something else, something _more,_ flowing through the hidden places in his consciousness where the light is meant to thrive, and yet does not. There are shadows there; there have been for years, and they grow darker as the voice comes to him in sleep.

“Ren,” it whispers when he is deep in dreams. “Lonely, solemn Ren. My child, you’ve been struggling with your training again. The simple tasks Skywalker teaches are not meant for you. There are so many things that suit you better—that will make you stronger—if only you’ll let me teach you.”

Ben Solo tosses in his narrow cot, curious about these promised powers, but knowing that at their heart, they are darkness and corruption. They will pollute him and twist his understanding of the Force into something by which he will always be trapped, never able to go back after the decision is made.

“Power comes with dedication, young Ren,” says the voice in his head. “You must commit yourself to it if you are to learn. There is no in-between place you can inhabit. It is dark, or it is light.”

Uncle Luke says that there is nothing absolute about the Force, that some power comes from the dark and some from the light. There is a balance, he says, and Ben pushes that thought toward the voice as he rests.

Laughter, cold and raspy. “What foolishness. Don’t be taken in, Ren. You will only be made weak by such dilution of strength. Choose your rightful path. Come to me and I will show you the way.”

As he sits in meditation now, Ben tries to bring the light into those crevices where the being known only to him as Snoke thrives. In the shallowest wells he succeeds, but in the deeper places, he can’t make the shadows fade. He is ten years old and he should have mastered the cleansing of this ritual long ago.

“Weakness, weakness,” Snoke hisses in the back of his mind.

Ben seeks the silence again, and, for a moment, finds peace. He _is_ lonely, just as he is accused of being. Snoke exploits those solitary moments, telling him how cared-for he will be when he comes to learn from him. The other padawans are younger than he is and have not half the gifts he does. He learned the saber fast and well, easily besting any competition to the point that no one, save Luke, dared spar with him. And he’s a keen pupil in every other aspect of physical manifestations of the Force, as well as mind tricks. The youngest padawans maybe look up to him, but as they grow and their powers do not eclipse his, their esteem becomes jealousy and they come to resent him. It leaves him friendless, with only his calligraphy for company.

What Snoke offers is careful tutoring and even company. There are six dark figures who linger at the corners of the visions he sends to Ben. “Your knights,” he says. “Your vassals. They will be with you always. They are loyal as the pathetic children you call fellows will never be. Come meet them, Ren.”

Snoke’s voice is little more than an echo as Ben meditates, but it’s still there: “Ren, Ren, they are waiting for you.”

Ben forces the sounds away with all his will as tears slip from his eyes. He wants those knights; he wants that company, that loyalty. He’s so alone. So, so alone.

 

* * *

 

Kylo was startled from the dream when his wrist chronometer beeped with the proximity alert: they were arriving at Ryden 2. The hollowness in his chest from those isolated years at his uncle’s school remained for a few moments, but then dissipated. He was not alone on the _Arrow_ , he realized; Hux was here. He silenced the alarm and rolled onto his feet, ducking to keep from hitting his head on the bunk above him. He rubbed his left hand over his face in an attempt to shake off the lethargy. From the nearby locker, he pulled the shirt he had discarded earlier and tugged it over his head. Glancing at the top bunk, he found it empty and still neatly made. A stab of loneliness again. Hux had not slept here.

Stars above, he had told him about Snoke. He hadn’t been able to stop himself after Hux had said that the creature who had haunted Ben Solo since childhood was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Kylo might not have believed it if it didn’t make perfect sense. The Order was all that remained of the Empire, and they sought to rule the galaxy as Palpatine once had. And Darth Vader had been the emperor’s right hand. There was no doubt in Kylo’s mind that that was what Snoke had wanted of him. He intended him to take up the mantle of his grandfather and become all that he had been. The truth struck Kylo like a blow. He would have to tell Leia as soon as it could be managed. Knowing the identity of the leader of the First Order—and that he was a power Force-sensitive—would be critical intelligence for the Resistance.

Setting that aside for now, Kylo put on his boots and went to the cockpit to decelerate and steer the _Arrow_ back into the station. He input the docking codes, and the door opened to permit him entry. The freighter handled smoothly as he set it down in the hangar, the landing gear barely making a sound as he set it down. The engines spooled out when he cut the power, and he called up the loading droid to take care of the cases of blasters. That left him only to find Hux.

It didn’t prove terribly difficult. He was in the lounge, curled up in a chair, fast asleep with his datapad lying next to him. Kylo paused to look at him, appreciating how small he could make himself in such a limited space. His hands were tucked beneath his head, and his mouth was slightly open as he breathed through it. Kylo was hesitant to wake him, but he went to the chair and laid a hand on his shoulder. Hux jumped, nearly striking Kylo in the face with an errant fist.

“Easy, easy,” Kylo said. “It’s just me. We’re back at the station.”

Comprehension crossed Hux’s face, and he relaxed. “Yes, of course.” Kylo gave him room to get up, and he did. “Do you need my help with the cargo?”

“No, T4’s got it. You can just head in.” Kylo smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of caf. Would you make it?”

Hux lifted his chin with determination—likely to best the machine that had foiled him two days before. “Very well,” he said, and then turned and marched away. Kylo allowed himself a laugh when he had gone.

He gathered both of their bags from the lockers and carried them into the living quarters of the station, where Hux was waiting on the couch with two mugs of steaming caf and a couple of ration bars.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Kylo said as he dropped the bags. “Eat if you’re hungry.”

Hux picked up a bar and set to unwrapping it while Kylo took the place next to him. He went for his caf first, sipping the dark, fragrant blend.

He reclined against the back of the couch with it in his right hand, playing at contentment that he didn’t wholly feel after yesterday’s revelations. Still, he didn’t want Hux to suspect it affected him as strongly as it did.

“So, we’ve got the rest of this cycle free,” he said. “Nowhere to go today, or tomorrow, probably. I need to go over the data Dad gave me, but we can’t go out until the buyers come to pick up their cargo.” He set his arm on the back of the couch behind Hux’s head. “It’s not the most exciting life between jobs, I have to admit.”

Hux chewed his ration bar. “That was never the case with my previous employers. If we weren’t working, we were training.”

“But I bet you worked a lot,” said Kylo.

“We did, yes. I’m not sure what to do with my time if I’m not kept busy.” He turned to Kylo. “What do you do?”

Kylo often spent hours doing his katas or in meditation, but he chose to reply, “I read a lot, and I do go planetside to explore. I’ve spent days hiking before. Have you been into the wilderness?”

Hux gave a thoughtful nod. “As a sharpshooter, I used to camp for days to learn about my targets before I ever took my shot. I’ve spent three or four days in trees before.”

Considering how he had slept on the _Arrow_ , Kylo could see it. “Well, we won’t have time for that in the next couple of weeks, but we can always go, if you want to rough it for a while.”

“Perhaps later,” Hux said. “I don’t think I’ll mind a few days spent lazily.” He frowned into his mug. “Though I won’t let myself get soft. Is there somewhere I can practice shooting?”

“There are all kinds of ranges planetside,” said Kylo, “but...I can always set you up something in the hangar. It’s about five hundred meters square.” He quirked a smile. “You could show me the ropes of shooting.”

Hux snorted. “You need a sharper blaster before I can do that, as I said.”

“Then we’ll go planetside, and you can find me one. Just like you promised.”

“Did I promise?” Hux asked, regarding Kylo with an intensity reminiscent of how he had looked at him on Ikel, when his hand at been on the grip of Kylo’s old blaster.

Kylo just managed to keep from inching closer to him, maybe reaching down to brush the nape of his neck with his fingers. How he had had his hands on Kylo’s prosthetic in the cockpit of the _Falcon_. He had seemed so fascinated with it, and Kylo had never wished he could feel the arm more than he did then.

Kylo had been unprotected as he slept there, and should have been troubled to wake to see a former stormtrooper seated next to him, studying him; but he had seen a kind of tenderness in Hux’s curiosity that disarmed him. He wondered what Hux had been thinking of him in that moment. He had moved closer, and when Kylo had set his left hand over Hux’s on his arm, Hux hadn’t pulled away. No, he had made to get up, to cross the distance between them, and maybe, Kylo distantly hoped, come to him willingly.

But still, Kylo was wary. He didn’t know how to decide if Hux’s interest was sincere, or just another attempt to hasten paying his debt. Kylo hated that uncertainty; he wanted Hux, but couldn’t...just _couldn’t_.

“Well,” Kylo said, “maybe not, but I _did_ say I would let you. That’s close enough to a promise for me.”

Hux smiled slyly. “I look forward to it.” He finished his ration bar and picked up his half-full cup of caf to sip at it.

Kylo ate his own breakfast, considering how he was going to slip away from Hux to load the Resistance data into his private console. He couldn’t show Hux the room where he took his mother’s calls; that was a step too far, even if he was on the cusp of trusting him. Likely he would have to wait until Hux went to sleep for the night. He didn’t like to delay when the information could be urgent, but if he had no other choice, that would suffice.

“You interested in watching a holo?” he asked. “I know we watched a bunch before, but—”

“I’m amenable,” Hux replied. “Is there one on, perhaps, the Rebellion?”

Kylo hesitated. There was something in Hux’s voice that struck him as odd—leading. “Sure. Some of them are old and contrived, but there are couple that aren’t bad. You’re interested in galactic history?”

Hux shifted, as if stalling to answer. “I’ve never had the chance to learn about it, really. I was reading a book last night. It interested me.”

“Okay,” said Kylo. “Let me find one.”

He scrolled through the options on the console and chose a favorite of his when he had been younger: _Rebels of the New Republic_. It heavily featured his mother and his uncle, but not his father, which was Kylo’s goal. It had been stupid to bring Hux to meet Han; it wasn’t terribly hard to figure out who he was and connect the dots. That didn’t give away Kylo’s ties to the Resistance, but it did reveal his origins and compromise his cover. But could he really have kept that from Hux over the long term? He doubted it. He’d find a way to play it off if the topic came up. It wasn’t the first time he had told someone he was an illegitimate child. And it wasn’t necessarily wrong; his parents had never been married.

Hux was illegitimate, too, he had said, and had been cast aside in favor of a younger, legitimate son in his family. Kylo could only assume that that was how he had ended up in the First Order’s military. His father had wanted to get rid of him, and had found the most efficient way. But if what Hux said was true, and his father had ordered Hux’s own men—his fellow stormtroopers—to kill him, it seemed only logical that this man had clout within the Order itself. Stormtroopers didn’t take bounties. Kylo would have to explore the Resistance’s intelligence files and find out if there was someone else by the name of Hux in their records of First Order personnel.

As he queued up the holo, Kylo sat back again, conscious not to press too far into Hux’s space. The music started as the opening crawl scrolled up across the screen. Hux watched, rapt, as it began. Kylo smiled to himself, fond, and watched.

 

* * *

 

When the holo was finished, Hux was quiet, seemingly contemplative. Kylo shut off the console and, eyeing him, asked, “Did you like it?”

“It was”—he paused—“different than in the book I read yesterday. More…theatrical.”

Kylo sat back against the arm of the couch, folding one leg under him. “Well, it’s supposed to be exciting. And it’s a little embellished for the sake of that. There was a whole part about a trash compactor that they left out.” His mother had told that part to him, much to Han’s displeasure. “Most holos _and_ books leave that out. It doesn’t really fit the dignity of the Rebellion.”

“I know what it means to present a certain face,” said Hux. “The New Republic tries to look like a fair and just democracy, but it hides the underbelly of corruption and disorder.”

There was disdain in his voice, but not one borne of experience; he was repeating a script. Kylo knew that the First Order believed the Senate was useless and inefficient, preferring martial law under a single leader: under Snoke.

“It’s not perfect,” he said to Hux, “but it’s not totally dysfunctional, either.” He sucked his teeth, uncertain whether he wanted to continue. He did: “But they _did_ toss out one of their most respected senators over who her father was, which was Bantha shit.”

Hux shifted to face him, wedging himself into the elbow of the couch, between back and armrest. “Who was it?”

Kylo was surprised; he had honestly expected him to know. There was barely a being in the galaxy who wasn’t aware of what had happened all those years ago.

“Her name is Leia Organa.”

“Oh,” Hux spat. “ _Her._ ” This time the disgust was as plain in his face as in his tone.

Kylo tamped down his defensiveness. “Yeah, her.”

Hux sniffed, lips downturned. “So, what did she do to get herself ejected from the Senate? Does it have to do with her _Resistance_?”

“The Resistance came after she was forced out,” Kylo said. “After they found out that the parents who raised her weren’t her true ones. You really haven’t heard this?”

Hux shook his head.

Kylo sighed. “Her father was Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine’s attack dog. The Senate branded her an Imperial loyalist and traitor, and threw her out.”

“Lord Vader had _a child_?” Hux asked. Kylo didn’t miss the use of the formal—respectful—title.

“Two,” Kylo replied. “Twins. Luke Skywalker is the other.”

Hux’s mouth was hanging open now, and he was leaning ever-so-slightly forward with the intensity of his interest. “They managed to hide that for so long?”

Kylo tried to not to let his childhood bitterness color his words. “They’re good liars, and almost nobody knew, only them and a few people they trusted.” Ben was one of them, but it wasn’t until he was old enough to understand the Skywalker lineage: just after he had had his accident. Luke and his mother had taken him to a discreet location under the pretense of putting his new arm through its paces, but there they had sat him down and told him everything they had never dared divulge to anyone else. Han knew a great deal, but not all of it.

Ben hadn’t known what to think or say. The villain in all of Luke’s stories about the dark side was part of his family, Ben his direct descendant. He wouldn’t have believed it had it come from anyone else, but Leia and Luke had been utterly sincere.

“It’s not something to be ashamed of,” Luke had said, his own prosthetic hand on Ben’s shoulder. “But neither is it something we can speak of again. Do you understand?”

Ben hadn’t, but he had said he did.

After dinner that night, Ben had lain down in his pup tent and tried to let the whirling truths of Anakin Skywalker’s fall settle in his mind. When, at last, he fell into sleep, it wasn’t long before the voice came. It was the first time since the accident. Ben had thought it gone after he refused to go with the knights sent to retrieve him, but there it was, back again.

“Ren, Ren, now you understand the wellspring of your strength,” it had hissed. “You are the next in line to take your place in the dark and harness all it can offer you. It can make you into something greater even than Darth Vader. You are his heir. Come to me, Ren, and I will show you the way.”

Ben’s fear had risen up at Snoke’s return, and he had cowered in the face of him.

“Don’t be afraid, Ren. I will not harm you. You were not meant to be damaged. Come to me. _Come to me._ ”

“Get out of my head,” Ben had managed to say, half a plea and half a demand. Snoke had not receded at first, but when Ben pressed again, determined, he had gone away and let him sleep. When he had woken the next morning, he had sworn to himself that he would never become Vader. But he wouldn’t follow the path of his master Obi-Wan, either. Ben would never be a Jedi; he would never tempt fate.

Hux drew Kylo back into the present. “A child is not his father,” he said coldly. “Organa and Skywalker overthrew the Empire and Vader died with it. Did they not clearly prove that they’re not Imperial sympathizers?”

“You’d think they would have,” said Kylo. “But their lineage damned Leia. She’s disgraced, ostracized, and only welcome in the Resistance.”

“But the New Republic supports the Resistance,” Hux said.

Kylo shook his head. “No. The Resistance means to protect the Republic from the First Order, but they aren’t formally supported by the Republic. The Resistance is on its own.”

Hux’s brow was furrowed. Clearly a great deal of the reality of the First Order’s conflict with both Republic and Resistance had been kept from its troopers. It made sense, though, to conflate their enemies and encourage equal hatred. Kylo tried not to think too hard on that hatred. If Hux loathed the Resistance, he could easily come to hate Kylo, too.

“I wasn’t told any of this,” Hux murmured, almost to himself. “Why would they… I suppose this business isn’t in the holos.”

Kylo huffed. “No, but it was all over the ‘net when it happened. You were, uh, really kept on a tight leash when you were younger.” He forced out: “By the mercs.”

“I must have been, yes,” Hux said, staring at his lap.

Kylo wasn’t sure where to go from there, so he got up and went to the kitchen to warm up some rations for them. Like Ben had once needed time to process the truth, Hux could benefit from at least a few minutes without Kylo’s interference. Once the rations were heated, though, he brought them back to the couch and held one out for Hux to take. Hux did, and perked up.

“Are there still records on the holonet of everything that happened with Organa and the Senate?” he asked.

“Sure,” Kylo replied. “Just about anything you could want. It’s been long enough that hundreds of articles have been written about it. You could read for days.”

Hux picked at the wrinkled green peas on his plate. “I might like to do that.”

Kylo swallowed a mouthful of mashed tubers. “Of course. You’ve got the whole rest of the day.”

“Indeed.” Hux finished about half of his food before abandoning it in favor of his room and his datapad.

Kylo let him go, cleaning up the packages and then going back to the couch. He stretched out across it, content in having told Hux what had been concealed from him by the First Order. He had a right to know what really happened in the galaxy without it being filtered through whatever backwards mechanisms the Order had for conditioning its soldiers.

Without other plans for the day, Kylo brought up the console again and put on another holo—something mindless that he could pay partial attention to while his thoughts wandered to and from Hux.

Dinner came and went, but Hux still hadn’t come out of his room. 1H appeared at around 2030 to inquire about Hux’s wellbeing, and Kylo sent it to him. When the droid returned about a half hour later, he had a positive report and had been told that Master Hux was not hungry and would see Kylo in the morning. Unable to do anything but accept, Kylo bided his time for another few hours, until he could guess Hux would be asleep.

He went into his bedroom for a few minutes, taking the time to brush his teeth, but then snuck back out into the living space. At the far side, he entered the biometrics to get into his hidden conference room. The interfaces around him sprang to life as he slid the data drive Han had given him into the console. One of his mother’s lieutenants appeared in the message.

“Kylo,” she said, “this transmission is encrypted at the highest level and should not be disclosed to any operative other than you, not even other Resistance fighters. This information is critical and meant to be treated with the utmost care.

“Our informants in the First Order have gathered intelligence on a project called Starkiller. We do not know anything more than the name, but we suspect it is an offensive of some kind. The informants have gathered more about it, but it cannot be transferred over the holonet for security reasons. The general is therefore dispatching you to rendezvous with the informants and collect the data. It should be returned to D’Qar _only_. There are security codes to access our base on-planet included in this data drive. They are only good for four days. The meeting with the informants is set for two cycles from now. Send an acknowledgement when you receive this.”

The recording ended, its light dimming and leaving Kylo in the dark. He scanned the drive for the security codes, memorizing them quickly before he destroyed it. He keyed the location of the meeting with the informants into his datapad, which he could transfer to the _Arrow_. Two cycles left him time to meet the Resistance operatives who would pick up the blasters, and then to prepare for the job.

He lifted the data drive from the console and set it in the palm of his hand. Using the Force, he raised it until it was hovering a few centimeters in the air. He concentrated on each of its constituent parts; it broke into each of them. He bent them out of shape so that it could not be reconstructed, and then collected the parts to be thrown into the trash compactor.

Tapping a command into the console, he brought up the Resistance’s archives on First Order personnel. Some of the records were likely outdated, having been collected by various informants over the years, but it didn’t necessarily matter if the things Kylo was looking for were current. Hux had given him only that name, and while it could easily be his given name, Kylo didn’t think it was. It could have been a nickname, too, but he disregarded that as well. In the personnel records he typed in the three simple letters and hit the search command.

Kylo had never paid much mind to the small details of the Order, but now, when it was pertinent, he desperately hoped it would yield a result. Within twenty seconds, it did.

_Two entries found:_

_Brendol Hux II, general, commanding officer Stormtrooper Program._

_Brendol Hux I, commandant, Arkanis Academy._

There was no accompanying image for either of the entries, but that wasn’t surprising. However, the chances were altogether too low that his Hux was not somehow connected to this General Hux and Commandant Hux. One of them could be his father. It would fit. He would have the power to throw Hux into the Stormtrooper Program and then force his men to kill him.

Kylo say down heavily in the single chair in the room, staring at the records. This arrangement with Hux was just going to get more complicated. A sharpshooter—the son of a member of the high command—and a Force-user who had spent his early life being seduced to the dark side by the very creature that led the First Order. They were a ticking time bomb. There was no way they were going to be able to conceal these secrets forever.

He wanted to send a message to Leia about Snoke, but he would not do so over the holonet. He was going to be on D’Qar in a matter of days anyway. There was no way he could bring Hux with him on this assignment; he would have to stay on the station. He wouldn’t like it, but if Kylo ordered him, he would do it. At least Kylo thought so.

Closing the database, Kylo powered down the console and left the room. In his quarters, he undressed and sat beside the wide viewport on a thin cushion to meditate on the mission and all he had discovered. If Snoke came to him again in dreams, this time Kylo would have the upper hand. He knew who he was now, and that gave him all the more power to deny his demands.

 

* * *

 

When Kylo was finished with his workout and shower the next morning, Hux was already in the kitchen, dressed—hair made auburn by the wetness of a fresh wash—and with caf in hand.

“I could get used to this, you know,” Kylo said as he took a sip of the caf. “Waking up to hot caf already made for me.” _Waking up to you here._

Hux tossed him a ration bar. “If you continue to sleep late enough, you will.”

“Hey,” Kylo grumbled. “I get up an hour before this to exercise. I’m not _that_ lazy.”

Hux cocked his head. “What sort of exercise?”

“Bodyweight calisthenics, mostly. They taught me a circuit in the hospital when I was recovering as a kid. I’ve stuck to it.” He circled his right wrist, the prosthetic one. “And I don’t cheat and use the arm. It stays behind my back for the pushups.”

“Do you think—” Hux started. “Do you think I might join you? If the ritual is a private one, I won’t intrude, but—”

Kylo held up his left hand, silencing him. “No, it’s fine. We can do them out here.” He eyed Hux’s lean form. “I’ll go easy on you to start.”

Hux pursed his lips disdainfully, and Kylo laughed.

“Okay,” said Kylo. “I won’t go easy on you, I promise.”

He turned to his ration bar, and watched Hux looking out the large viewport that took up nearly the entire living quarters’ planet-facing wall.

“When do the buyers come for their shipment today?” Hux asked.

Kylo glanced at his chronometer. “About an hour from now, I think. I’m going to head down to the hangar and run some coordinates before they get here.” He didn’t outright invite Hux to join him, but the question was there.

“I think I’ll continue reading,” Hux said, “but if you require me, I’ll come.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” He finished his caf and went to put the mug in the sanitizer, but Hux intercepted him.

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Go to your coordinates.”

Kylo relinquished the mug, noting that their fingers touched as Hux took it. It pinned him to the spot for a few seconds before he regained his composure, shot Hux a smile, and turned on his heel.

The _Arrow_ ’s auxiliary power hummed to life as he entered and input the data from the Resistance into the navigational computer. It gave him a readout of the planet Kubindi in the Outer Rim, including latitude and longitude of the exact meeting place. It was a rural trading post between two different deserts: just the kind of place where they wouldn’t be noticed among the general riffraff that passed through.

Despite the computer, Kylo went to the lounge and began to draw up the navigational chart himself. It filled the hour before he got a ping on his comm that an unregistered ship was seeking permission to dock. He requested the Resistance access codes and received them word-for-word. He opened the docking bay door to admit the small skiff.

“Morning,” said Kylo as the four operatives descended the loading ramp. “It’s morning here, anyway.”

A woman whose hair was covered with a vibrant red scarf stepped forward. “You’re Kylo.”

He nodded. “That’s right. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Neeran,” she said. “Do you have the cargo?”

Kylo showed her to where the crates were and called for T4 to load them. Neeran inspected them cursorily before she let the droid take over.

“You do good work for the Resistance,” she said to Kylo, almost grudgingly. “Not everyone likes that you don’t declare yourself for us openly, as the general’s son, but—”

“I am carrying out her orders just as they were given to me,” Kylo said curtly. “I’m loyal, if that’s what you’re questioning.”

She lifted her chin, but conceded, “Yes. I understand the value of your position.”

Kylo was about to say more, but he spotted Hux entering the hangar. He told Neeran, “You’re just a regular buyer. This isn’t a Resistance transaction.”

She looked at Hux and then back at Kylo, lifting a brow, but kept quiet.

“Is everything in order?” Hux asked when he got to Kylo’s side. Kylo saw that there was a bulge at the small of his back, betraying the blaster he carried there.

“It’s fine,” Kylo replied. “We’re just finishing up.”

Neeran held out her hand. “Good doing business with you. You’ve received payment.”

Kylo shook. “Yep. Safe travels.”

With her lieutenants in tow, she boarded her ship and fired up the engines. The wind of their exhaust buffeted Kylo and Hux as they took off and disappeared into the sky.

“Well, that’s done,” said Kylo. “Easy enough.”

Hux hummed an acknowledgement.

Kylo shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, rocking back on his heels aimlessly. “So, ah, do you maybe want to run some flight simulations on the _Arrow_? You did well yesterday, but the sims are still good practice. There are basic ones to start with.”

“I like a challenge,” Hux said.

Kylo chuckled. “I didn’t say you didn’t. I can turn up the difficulty. You want to give it a shot?”

“Yes.”

True to his word, Kylo set the simulation to a higher level, and Hux did acceptably well. He had a knack for it, Kylo had to admit. They spent a couple of hours at it, Hux in the pilot’s seat while Kylo sat back and watched. He let his mind wander a bit as Hux did the same scenarios over and over, but he did his best to give advice when it was needed.

They broke for lunch at 1300 hours, and ate their rations standing in the kitchen. Hux was still fond of juice, which he drank with every meal. Kylo would have to buy more. Now that the weapons exchange was done, they could feasibly go planetside. As they put their disposable plates into the compactor, Kylo asked if Hux would like to.

 “Yes,” Hux replied. He was clearly excited about it, but kept his composure for the most part.

“Okay, then,” said Kylo. “Let’s go.”

They landed at the public docks in Olmek, and together they went out into the blazing sunshine and heat of the afternoon. Their first stop was the bulk markets, where Kylo bought his rations. He told Hux to pick the meals that he liked; Kylo wasn’t picky and he wanted Hux to have something he wanted to eat. Hux gave each ration packet due consideration before he gave their order to the shopkeeper. When they came to the juice vendors, Kylo bought a pack of every flavor to be brought to the _Arrow_ with the rest of their supplies.

Kylo was in no hurry to get back to the station when they were finished. Instead, he said, “Let’s take a ride,” to Hux as he flagged down a rickshaw. They were pressed tightly against each other in the small seat, but at least it was shaded and there was a little breeze. Hux was sweating, Kylo could see; the back of his shirt collar was damp. Kylo himself was hot, and his shirt was sticking to his back. In a few minutes, though, they’d be inside.

They stopped in front of a long, flat-faced durasteel building. The paint above the door was sunbleached, but one could still make out the words: Kelper’s Firearms. Kylo had never been here—he had never felt the need to go shooting for recreation—but it was the most reputable range in the city. He hopped out of the rickshaw, paid and thanked the driver in broken Etash, and headed for the entrance to the building.

A blast of cool air hit him as he and Hux stepped inside. There was a counter a few paces away, where a Bothan sat with a datapad in her hands. She didn’t even glance up as Kylo placed his hands on the counter and greeted her.

“Thirty credits for an hour on the range,” she said. “If you’re got your own weapons, that is. If you need to rent a blaster, it’s fifty. Two lanes for you, then?”

“Just one, I think,” said Kylo. “I’m taking a lesson.” He winked at Hux, who seemed amused.

The Bothan woman slid a credit chit reader across the counter, her eyes still on her datapad. “Thirty it is.” Kylo scanned his chit and she said, “Lane six. There’s a timer above the targets. If you need more time, just comm me.”

Kylo muttered his thanks. Lane six was about halfway down the line of mostly empty firing lanes. He could hear the _zip_ and _hiss_ of blaster bolts hitting the targets, but there was no chatter of conversation among the shooters. The lane was narrow, but there was enough space for Kylo and Hux to fit inside it together.

Kylo drew his old blaster from the holster on his thigh and wrapped his hand around the grip. “I know you don’t like this one, but it’s what I’ve got. They had a pro shop here, though, where they sell newer models.” He made a face, but said, “If you’re looking for something newer for me, that’s where we’ll find it.”

“You really will purchase something new just because I think you should?” Hux asked.

Kylo shrugged. “If it means I can shoot even half as well as you do, I’m willing to do it.” He rubbed the barrel of his blaster affectionately. “It might be time for this old girl to be retired anyway.”

“That should have been done twenty years ago,” Hux scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Kylo. “I get that you don’t like it. Are you going to watch me shoot, or what?”

Hux crossed his arms and leaned back against the privacy barrier between their lane and the next one. “Show me your best.”

Kylo decided, vainly, to shoot with his left hand first. He lifted the blaster, bracing the butt against his right palm, and fired his first shot. It landed several inches off of the center of the target, but it wasn’t a poor showing. He pulled the trigger four more times in quick succession, displaying his abilities as best he could. He never hit the bullseye, though, which wounded his pride a bit.

“What do you think?” he asked when he was finished.

Hux replied, “You have acceptable form, I suppose, but you hunch your shoulders instead of bracing your frame. Your speed works to your detriment. You don’t line up your shots carefully enough. Before you consider shooting fast, we should realign your stance completely. And the calibration of that blaster is terrible.”

Kylo blinked at the frank, even scathing assessment. “So, I guess you don’t want me to show you my right-handed shots, huh?”

Hux took a step forward. “If it’s as sloppy as your left side, we’ll have to spend just as much time on that.”

Despite his iciness, Kylo found it amusing how seriously he was taking this. Kylo knew he would never be a master marksman, but it also didn’t matter in his line of work. _I bet Hux can’t handle a lightsaber_ , he thought childishly.

“Okay,” Kylo said. “Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

Hux approached in a no-nonsense manner, taking up a perpendicular stance to the target, shoulders square, back straight, feet planted firmly apart. “You start like this. Hold yourself like you intend to hit something, not so carelessly.”

Kylo did his best to mimic him. Hux turned to look him over and, frowning, reached out to shift the cant of his hips and the angle of his shoulders.

“Stand straight,” Hux ordered. “Lengthen your spine.”

A few of the vertebrae cracked as Kylo did as he was told. Hux put one hand at the small of his back and the other over his stomach.

“Tighten your core,” Hux said, rapping his knuckles against Kylo’s abdominals. Kylo flexed them, pulling them in.

Hux rapped again, seemingly satisfied. “Can you hold that position now?” he asked.

Kylo didn’t feel like he was loose enough to fire under attack, and he said as much.

“You’re not under duress in training,” said Hux. “You have to build this foundation before you can ever attempt a firefight.”

He sounded like a disapproving parent, and Kylo almost laughed. Instead, he said, “Yes, sir.”

Hux sniffed, but didn’t tell him not to address him formally. “We’ll start two-handed. Hold your form and aim _carefully_. Rush it and you’ll just miss.”

Kylo sighted down the barrel, doing his best to focus as Hux commanded. He exhaled as he pulled the trigger and the bolt flared out and singed a black mark on the second-to-center ring, not much better than he had done before.

“You remembered to breathe,” said Hux. “At least you know that much. It wasn’t bad. I place half the fault on that blaster rather than your form.” From his holster, he drew the smaller, newer blaster he used. “Try this.”

Kylo took it and lined up another shot. This time it landed nearer the center. Hux looked smug.

“Okay, all right,” Kylo grumbled. “My old blaster is garbage. I get it.”

“You’re not a bad shot, Kylo,” Hux said. “You just need instruction. Do you want me to show you?”

Kylo made to hand over the blaster, but Hux picked up his old one and got into the same stance in which Kylo had stood. He also shot left-handed. Five rapid shots were off in the space of a couple of heartbeats, and Kylo went wide-eyed to see that every single one had landed dead center.

“ _Kriff me_ ,” he muttered.

Hux held the old blaster with displeasure, but admitted, “It still has some usefulness, but you need a more accurate weapon for a novice.”

Kylo pouted. “I’m not a novice.”

“A _capable_ novice, then.”

“Not better, Hux.”

They glared at each other for a few seconds before Kylo backed down.

“Show me more.”

As he took up his stance this time, with the newer blaster in hand, Hux stepped up behind him and, pressing against his back, made minute corrections to his position. Kylo could feel the expansion and contraction of his chest as he breathed steadily, exhalations stirring the hair at the back of Kylo’s neck. Unbidden, Kylo began to breathe at the same pace, syncing them up. Hux’s arms were against his, his hands cupping Kylo’s.

“Steady,” he said in his ear. “Think about the shot. Envision it before you ever pull the trigger. Close your eyes and tell me what you want to see.”

“A bolt in the center,” Kylo said. “A burn there, marking that I did well for you.” He nearly flinched. That wasn’t what he had meant to say. He wasn’t doing this to please Hux...was he?

“Mm, yes,” said Hux, low. “You’re doing very well. Now, open your eyes, don’t overthink it, and fire.”

As Kylo cracked his eyes open again, the target came into focus. He didn’t hesitate; he took the shot. A tendril of smoke rose from the bullseye and he barked a triumphant “Ha!”

Hux backed away from him, though his fingertips brushed Kylo’s shoulders. “Very good,” he said. “Now you just have to do it by yourself.”

Kylo looked up at the clock above the target. They still had fifteen minutes left of their time. “Watch me give it another try?” He wouldn’t have minded Hux standing against him again, but he figured it was better to actually do it on his own, as Hux said.

“Go on, then,” Hux bade him.

Kylo never managed to make quite the perfect shot he had, but he did a much better job than he had at the beginning. He even switched to his right hand and tried that. Hux offered a few pointers, but mostly let Kylo get a feel for it himself.

When the clock buzzed, ending their session, he handed over the smaller blaster to Hux to holster again. He slid his own home, but said, “Better go pick something new in the shop.”

It turned out to be a fairly small room off the main range, but the human proprietor was much more engaged than the Bothan at the counter had been. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “Welcome to Kelper’s Shop. What are you in the market for today?”

Kylo let Hux take the lead: “A midsize cyclical power pack single-barrel. Something that fires neatly.”

Kelper gave Hux a once-over, clearly not having expected him to be so knowledgeable. “Well, we have a selection. Is it for you, sir?”

“For him,” Hux said, indicating Kylo.

“Ah,” said Kelper. “Then we should have something to suit.” He opened the nearest showcase and drew out four different blasters, each of them shiny with newness. Kylo stepped close to look at them. He could tell the aesthetic differences, but when it came to how they were powered and if they shot “neatly,” he was at a loss.

Hux picked up the first of the blasters and tested its weight in his hands. He put it back down and picked up the next one. Kylo watched him inspect each on carefully before he offered the third one to Kylo.

“Tell me what you think of the shape and weight,” he said.

The grip was smaller than Han’s old blaster, but it fit well in Kylo’s palm, and the whole thing weighed far less. He mimed lining up for a shot while holding it, and, to his slight embarrassment, Hux silently took hold of his shoulders and pushed them down; he touched Kylo’s stomach again, testing the tightness of his abdominals. If Kelper had any comment, he kept it to himself.

“This one suits you,” Hux said, his hand still resting on Kylo’s belly.

“You think?” Kylo asked.

“I do.”

Kylo lowered his arms, and Hux moved back. “I guess this is the one we’ll take, then,” he said to Kelper.

“Very good, sir. I’ll have it wrapped up for you.” He glanced down at Kylo’s holster. “Unless you wish to carry it out.”

Kylo touched the old blaster, not quite ready to let it go yet. “No, wrap it up.”

Kelper handed over a padded and bagged parcel a minute or so later, which Hux took while Kylo paid. It was a hefty six hundred credits, but Kylo didn’t mind; he had the credits to spare. And he had enjoyed himself, with Hux teaching him his trade. Kylo would have loved to see Hux in action with his sniper rifle. He must have been something to behold.

“Do you have targets?” Kylo asked. “I’m setting up a range for us back...home.”

Kelper produced a catalog of collapsible and standing targets, which Kylo handed to Hux.

“Pick what you want for the hangar,” Kylo told him.

Hux flipped through a few pages until he found something acceptable, and pointed it out to Kelper. “Two of these.”

“I have them in storage,” said Kelper. “I can get them for you and have them delivered. Where would you like them sent?”

“Landing pad twelve,” Kylo said. “How long will it take to get them there?”

“An hour at most.”

Kylo nodded. “That’s fine. We’ve got another stop to make before we get off-planet.” To Hux: “Let’s go.”

They caught another rickshaw back into the center of town, and it dropped them off right outside Kylo’s favorite cantina. As soon as Hux recognized it, he grinned.

“Rotisserie Bantha?”

“You got it,” said Kylo.

They sat at the bar again, and Kylo ordered two wraps, a glass of whiskey, and a glass of ice water for Hux.

“Thanks for today,” he said as he took a sip of the liquor. “I had a good time. I’m pretty sure if we keep practicing, you’ll make something of me.”

Hux left fingerprints in the condensation on his glass. “You’re already something, but I can make you even better.”

“No doubt about it.”

Their wraps came, and Hux devoured his. Kylo ate a little more slowly and drank his whiskey. Hux eyed it dubiously, but when Kylo pushed it over to him, he picked it up and took a drink. He swallowed it heavily, but managed not to cough.

“You don’t have to like it,” Kylo said.

“You said that some people don’t drink it for the taste,” said Hux, “but the effect. What does that feel like?”

Kylo took the whiskey back and drank it down. “Everything is a little blurry and you can’t always put your thoughts together clearly. If you have enough your mind can go blank; you’re awake but don’t remember anything. And, like my dad said, it can make you sick.”

Hux laid his hand on the bar, tapping his forefinger against it. “I don’t like losing control of myself, but...perhaps if I don’t have too much, then I will feel the effects without being ill.”

“It’s called being tipsy,” said Kylo. “And yeah, of course you can.” He gestured with his empty glass. “You want a couple of shots of this?”

Hux gave a stiff nod. “All right.”

Kylo flagged down the bartender and ordered four shots of the whiskey, which were set in front of them, the shot glasses so full the surface tension was struggling to keep the liquid from spilling out. Kylo lifted one, showing Hux how it was done, and he followed suit. Together they knocked them back. This time Hux made a face, but held his own. Kylo patted him on the back.

“Wretched,” Hux muttered.

Kylo smiled. “Yeah. Another?”

“Yes.”

Hux took two more shots before Kylo stopped him and told him to let it set in before he continued. Hux obeyed, a look of concentration on his face—reflecting on if he was feeling any different yet.

“Lightheaded at all?” Kylo asked.

“Maybe a little,” Hux replied. “More...blurry. As you said. I think I like it.”

Kylo had kept up with him drink for drink and was feeling it himself. It wasn’t anywhere near his threshold, but he was on the pleasant edge of drunkenness. He chanced leaning closer to Hux and taking a breath. He smelled clean, like the same soap Kylo used. Hux turned to look at him, almost catching him out, and Kylo could see that his pupils were dilated; he looked hazy.

“There you go,” Kylo said quietly. “You feel it now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Hux, equally hushed. “It’s like floating.”

Kylo traced the edge of the bar with his left hand, edging closer to Hux’s. “Mmhm. That’s a good place to be. You shouldn’t go much further if you want to keep your wits about you.”

“Maybe one more?” Hux said.

Kylo sucked his lower lip into his mouth. He was tempted, but he wasn’t about to carry Hux back to the _Arrow_. “Why don’t we go back to the station and have one there?”

Hux was quick to agree. “All right.” He slid off of the barstool, wavering a bit on his feet.

Kylo paid the tab and led the way out of the cantina.

The walk back to the docks went quickly, and they spoke little. Hux kept a brisk pace, leaving Kylo to trail behind him, amused. Kylo knew better than to try and pilot with five shots of whiskey in him, so he activated the assisted piloting when they got aboard and into the cockpit. He and the computer both steered the _Arrow_ out of port and into the atmosphere.

“Will you let me pilot again one day?” Hux asked from the copilot’s seat. “I know I’m not very good yet, but maybe in a few weeks?”

“Sure,” Kylo replied. “We’ll stay in open space before you take her out of the hangar, but you’ll catch on quick, I think. You’re a natural.”

Hux’s smile was lopsided, but he was clearly preening.

Kylo landed the ship back on the station, only hesitating slightly to remember the security codes. As soon as the landing gear touched down, Hux was up and headed for the loading door. Kylo powered down the ship and jogged after him.

“You’re in a hurry,” he said as he caught him up in the passage toward the living quarters.

“I like this feeling,” said Hux. “I want another drink.”

Kylo shook his head, all but trotting beside him. “You go sit down and I’ll get you one.”

As they entered the central space of the station, Kylo detoured to the kitchen to get the bottle of liquor while Hux went to the couch and flopped down heavily onto it. He let his head fall back and spread his arms and legs wide. Kylo poured a generous three fingers into their glasses and carried them out, pressing one into Hux’s outstretched hands.

“Sip this,” he said. “It’s not for shooting.”

Hux paused and took a small drink. “It’s better than the stuff in the cantina.”

“That’s true,” said Kylo. “I buy this special. Enjoy it.” He brought his glass up to tap against Hux’s. “Cheers.”

They both sat back, relaxed and languid: a product of both the alcohol and good company. They didn’t always have to talk, Kylo had discovered. Sometimes it was better to just sit quietly; it was never uncomfortable with Hux. They were halfway done with their whiskey before Hux turned to Kylo and spoke again.

“Am I a burden to you?” he asked. “You operated alone for so long. I can’t imagine you had any real desire for me.”

Kylo frowned. “I didn’t expect you, and it’s going to take some getting used to to have you around, but you’re not a burden.”

“I don’t want to be that,” Hux said. He crossed one leg over the other, bringing him nearer to Kylo where he sat a quarter meter away. “I want to be someone on whom you can rely. I take my service to you seriously. I won’t disappoint you.”

Kylo set his hand in the space between them, toward Hux. “Don’t worry about that. I know you mean what you say. But you’re not my servant.” He wet his lips, hesitant, but continued: “I want you to like working with me. I don’t want you to be unhappy here.”

Hux glanced down at his hand, and for a moment Kylo thought he might cover it with his own, but he didn’t. “I was happy in my life before,” he said slowly. “It gave me purpose, and it was all I had ever known. But I believe I can find that in this life, too.”

“Okay,” said Kylo. “You’ll tell me if you’re not, though, right? Not happy?”

“I will tell you,” Hux said. “I give you my word.”

Lifting his hand from its place on the sofa, Kylo held it out. Hux put his into it, and they shook. Kylo smiled and Hux returned it.

“You want another drink?” Kylo asked.

Hux shook his head. “I think maybe I should retire. If we’re to do calisthenics in the morning, I’d like to feel up to it.”

“Sounds good.” Kylo resisted the urge to touch him in some way. “Sleep well.”

Hux rose and looked down at Kylo. “Goodnight.”

After he had gone, Kylo stayed seated, sighing. He had enjoyed their day together, and was already looking forward to their next one. But he would have to stay on the station while Kylo was off on Resistance business. Kylo regretted that, but he had secrets to keep, for now.


	7. Hux

Pulling the gauze and tape away from his side, Hux revealed the blaster wound. In the mirror in his refresher, he could see that the skin was well on its way to knitting itself back together, and the staples had already begun to dissolve. He hadn’t applied the bacta the droid 1H had given him, but that hadn’t seemed to hinder the healing process. It only meant that the tissue would scar in a shock of white. It was smooth, but clearly visible.

Testing his range of motion, he twisted his torso to the left and right. The staples pulled just slightly, but there was no pain. He didn’t bother to cover the wound again, instead pulling on a white t-shirt and padding barefoot through his quarters to the door.

“Stars above!” Kylo cried as it slid open to reveal him standing just outside, one hand poised to knock. Hux tensed, raising his fists to defend himself. Kylo fell back a step, out of range of a strike. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hux, relaxing, opened his hands and lowered them. “I could have hit you.”

“Yeah,” said Kylo, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair was pulled up into a tail. “It would have hurt. I’m not really in the market for a black eye or a split lip.” He cocked a brow. “Which would you have given me?”

Hux frowned, but when Kylo’s lips curled up in a barely hidden smile, he realized he was teasing him. “Lip,” he said. “Your mouth is a larger target.”

“I don’t know whether that’s meant to be an insult or a compliment,” Kylo said.

Hux gave his lips a pointed look. “Which do you prefer?”

Kylo chuckled. “Compliment, of course. I like to pretend everyone thinks I’m good-looking.”

“You are,” said Hux. It was foolish to imagine that Kylo didn’t know that.

Kylo trained his gaze on Hux. “You mean that.” He stated it, but there was a questioning inflection.

Hux gave a mute nod, the space around them feeling thick and full of static charge. Kylo was just across the threshold, and with a half step Hux could be in his space. They could forgo their training session in favor of something far more pleasurable. All Hux had to do was take him by the hand and lead him back into his quarters, to the bed. He was on the cusp of doing so when Kylo cleared his throat.

“You’re a regular flatterer,” he said jokingly. “I have a mirror.” He huffed. “Come on, let’s go work out.”

Together they went into the living quarters and onto the bit of floor in front of the viewport. There were clouds covering Ryden 2’s sky where the station overlooked it; occasional flashes of lightning tore through them. Kylo lay flat on the durasteel floor, explaining that he began with exercises to strengthen his back, simply staying on his stomach and lifting his arms and legs for several seconds at a time. Hux had no trouble keeping up with him for those, and then for the pushups. True to his word, Kylo did most of them one-handed, though he made sure to do a few with both arms to balance out the musculature of his shoulders. Hux’s were burning by the time they finished their repetitions.

Kylo gave occasional instructions, but Hux followed him without much trouble. As they stretched at the end of the hour, Kylo said, “You did good. You can join me every morning, if you want.”

Hux unfolded himself from over his legs. “I’d like that. Perhaps you’ll spend some time with me in the hangar practicing shooting?”

“Not today.” Kylo got gracefully to his feet and held out his hand for Hux to take. “I’ve got a job to do.”

Hux caught the singular, and frowned. “You aren’t taking me along.”

Kylo looked a little sheepish. “I’m sorry, but no. This is something I have to do on my own.” He rubbed his hands together, chewing his lower lip. “I’ll be gone a couple of days.”

“Oh,” said Hux. He hadn’t expected to be left behind so soon, and certainly not for so long. “I understand. I’m sure I can keep myself busy here.” He expected he could explore the rest of the station, if access wasn’t restricted, and he could shoot, but that filled only a few hours. He would be trapped here with nowhere to go for _days_.

There was always reading, which he had done a great deal of since Kylo had told him about Leia Organa’s ejection from the Senate. He had gone through article after article, trying to understand how the daughter of the great Darth Vader could have fallen so far as to lead the Rebellion against him and the Emperor. There were numerous condemnations of her loyalties, some even branded her a traitor to the New Republic, an Imperial plant. But she was far from that. She been outspoken against the First Order from the beginning, calling them an Imperial cult which could endanger galactic peace. And she had founded what amounted to a new rebellion: the Resistance.

Hux had not forgotten about Han Solo, either. He and Organa had had an infamous love affair over the course of the Rebellion and in its aftermath, Hux had discovered, but as Organa had taken on a greater role in the Senate, Solo had left her to it and disappeared to do his own work. If he was still in the business of transport, that was what Hux guessed he had returned to.

Kylo’s origins, however, remained a mystery. Hux knew he was twenty-nine years old, which made him old enough to have been born in the early years of the New Republic, several years after Hux himself. By all accounts, Han Solo was still tangled up with Leia Organa at that time, which didn’t rule out the birth of a child. There was a not-so-distant possibility that Kylo was the son of the First Order’s greatest adversary, and Hux was at a loss as to what to do with that information.

“You want some caf?” Kylo asked. “Or would you rather shower first?”

“Water,” Hux replied. “And then caf.”

In the kitchen, Kylo filled a glass. Hux drained it, the coolness welcome; he had sweated a great deal during their workout. Kylo busied himself with the caf machine while Hux leaned against the counter and sipped at a second glass of water.

“When are you leaving?” Hux said as he accepted a mug a few minutes later.

Kylo sprang up onto the counter, legs spread as he sat at its edge. “After I get cleaned up. It’s not too long a trip, at least not the first leg.” He didn’t offer details, and Hux didn’t ask for them.

“Is there anything I can help you prepare?” he asked. “Rations?”

“If you want to bring a few aboard, you can,” Kylo replied. “You pick them. I don’t care much. And you’ve got more than enough to keep you fed while I’m gone.”

Hux nodded. “I have.”

Kicking out his foot, Kylo tapped his toes against Hux’s thigh. “I wish I could take you. I would if I could, but this is something personal and, well, sensitive.” He appeared genuinely contrite. “I didn’t take you on just to leave you around here to kill time. As soon as I get back, we’ll have some more jobs we can run together.”

“I understand,” said Hux. “I will do as you say.”

Kylo bumped his thigh again. “You’re allowed to be unhappy about it.”

Hux traced the handle of his mug with his thumb. He wasn’t quite comfortable admitting this, but he said it anyway: “I’ve never been alone outside of a sniper’s nest. And even then I was in constant contact with my team. I’ve not been on my own before.”

“Oh,” Kylo said, an echo of Hux from a few minutes earlier. Setting his mug to the side, he jumped down from the counter, bringing him closer to Hux. He was still sweat-damp and Hux caught the scent of musk. “I don’t mean to leave you lonely. I can send you holo messages, if you want me to. I’ll show you how to record them on the console, too, so you can send them to me. I won’t be able to get them in hyperspace, but when I come out…”

Hux blinked at him. “You shouldn’t take time out of your work.”

Kylo waved him off. “I’m just sitting around when I’m in hyperspace anyway. I have some old stories I could tell you. If you care about those.”

Hux’s mug was acting as the only barrier between them, and he wanted to put it down and touch Kylo’s chest, his neck, his face. He _did_ care about Kylo’s stories, and his offer of sending messages was a characteristically kind one. If Hux couldn’t go along with him, having those to look forward to while he was gone seemed a fair enough compromise.

“I don’t have as many stories,” Hux said. “But I’ll listen to yours.”

Kylo rubbed his chin. “I don’t know, you’ve got to have some good ones. Or you could just find a book and read it to me.”

Hux’s brows rose. Long ago, in his bedroom on Arkanis, his nurse had read him children’s books. It had soothed him to sleep, and he had loved that nurse more dearly than anyone else in the house for the hours she spent spinning those stories for him.

“I...could do that,” he said haltingly. “Though I don’t know if I’d be good at it.”

“With _your_ voice?” Kylo said. “Of course you would. Pick something you like and just record a couple of chapters. I can listen to them while I’m in hyperspace.”

Hux’s “All right” was quiet, almost meek. “If you’d like that.” He nearly dropped his mug as Kylo chucked him under the chin with his cool, metal fingers and said, “I would.”

The touch was gone as quickly as it had come, and Kylo was reaching into the cabinet for ration bars. He gave one to Hux, but took his own to go. “I’m going to shower, then I can show you the console.” He jogged out of the kitchen, humming something tunelessly.

Hux braced himself on the counter after he had gone, finishing his caf as he tried to make sense of Kylo’s gesture. It seemed perfectly careless, but anything like it among troopers would have been affectionate—if not somewhat condescending. But it hadn’t felt either way; it was another part of Kylo’s good nature rather than what Hux wanted it to be.

_Touch me again._

Hux breathed in deeply through his nose, staring at the durasteel overhead. He drank down the last of his caf and saw both his and Kylo’s mugs into the sterilizer. Uninterested in eating, he put the ration bar back in the cabinet and went to his refresher to clean up.

He still wasn’t completely used to the luxury of a hot shower, and was tempted to turn down the temperature, but Kylo had told him he was welcome to all the water he wanted. He left his exercise clothing in a puddle on the floor and slipped into the spray, turning his face up into it with a deep, satisfied sigh. The privacy of his own refresher was even more of an indulgence than the hot water. He had been in gang sonics since the age of six, and shared barracks just as long. Solitude in the station was something he might enjoy, but he was more apprehensive about it than anything.

He had been hoping to spend more time exercising with Kylo. It was good for him, but had also given him the opportunity to watch him move. For a man of his size, the flow of his motions had been strikingly smooth and lithe. He had been wearing only a thin tank top, affording Hux a view of the interplay of muscles in his arms and back—well, one arm, anyway. He went through his routine with an ease that Hux hadn’t matched. Maybe he would manage to get better with time, but he had also been so interested in Kylo that he hadn’t necessarily given all of his attention to the exercises.

Hux’s cock stirred as he stood thinking of him in the shower. Years of shared sleeping spaces had discouraged him from touching himself, though he hadn’t always been able to resist, especially as a teenager in the early days of his firearms training. The thrill of a good shot combined with the noises of his bunkmates fumbling through unpracticed sex had left him desperate enough to get himself off hurriedly under the blankets. He hadn’t done it, though, in months. He thought himself no worse for it, but he had never had someone who affected him as Kylo did in such close proximity.

Tentatively, he took his cock in hand and began to stroke himself to hardness. It took embarrassingly little time, with the memories of Kylo’s elegance as he exercised at the forefront of his mind. He recalled their brief kiss, too: the softness of Kylo’s lips and the warm slide of his tongue. Hux had fit so well in his lap, his legs around his waist and arms circling his neck. Hux hadn’t expected to want him so fiercely, but he had, and he still did.

Pressing the flat of one hand against the durasteel of the refresher wall, he leaned into it, continuing to work his cock. Pleasure was already building to the rhythm of the wet slap of his fist against his skin. He looked down to watch as he did it, seeing the tip appear and disappear as his fingers moved over it. Kylo’s fingers were thicker than his, and his palms broader. Hux wasn’t a small man, but he could imagine Kylo’s grip on his cock would be enveloping. He pressed his lips together, picturing just that: Kylo’s left hand around him, stroking powerfully while he held Hux to him with his silver right arm.

They would be pressed together in the shower after their exercises, bodies soap-slick and heated under the water. Hux had asked Kylo to come into the shower with him before, but had been refused. Days ago he might have been lost and clumsy in his explorations. Now he would be more sure, more determined to discover how Kylo liked to be touched. Hux could take his cock in his hands, but so too could he kneel on the hard floor of the cubicle and put his mouth around him. The troopers in his barracks had spent hours discussing the best techniques to take a man deep into the throat and to use hands and tongue in tandem to please him. Hux hadn’t seen a demonstration, but the descriptions had been vivid enough to give him an understanding of what worked best.

Hux rubbed his tongue against the top of his mouth before opening it to pretend that Kylo was inside. Maybe he would taste of the same muskiness Hux had smelled on him in the kitchen, a scent he had been more drawn to than repulsed by. He could kiss Kylo’s neck, even taste the salt of his sweat. Given the chance, he would touch every available place, from his hair—dark, and soft, if he remembered right—to the rounded ridges of his hip bones. He would go lower, then, to the hair that was equally soft, but curly.

Hux groaned, stroking himself faster now as the water cascaded over his head; droplets hung from his parted lips and from his chin. There was more, too, that they could do. Hux had once dared to wet his fingers with saliva and put one, and then two, inside himself. It had felt strange at first—invasive—but then better. He had been lying on his side in his bunk long after lights out, hands occupied in pleasuring himself as he never had before. That climax had been more intense than any he remembered, and he had made a complete mess of his sheets without a care. He had been told again and again by other troopers that a man’s cock felt even better than his own fingers, but he had never found anyone he would deign to let touch him in such a way.

But now there was Kylo. Hux liked to think that he had a good cock, at least one that would fill him the way the others had said they could. Reaching back now, Hux teased his entrance, easing the tip of his finger in. He could imagine it was Kylo’s, that he was standing behind him with his eyes on that finger penetrating him. There would be more after it, until Hux was stretched enough to take him.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. Go on.”

And Kylo would take him, carefully at first—he was too kind to be rough—but then harder when Hux asked. And he would, he thought. He wanted Kylo to push him against this very wall and have him until they were both crying out.

Hux pressed a second finger into himself and shuddered, hitting just the right place. He could tell Kylo where that was, and Kylo would see to it. Hux was reaching his peak as he envisioned all of this, of ceding all control of his body to someone else—no, to Kylo.

_Touch me again._

Hux came with a long moan, his release spattering the wall only to be washed away seconds later. Knees shaky, he sat on the floor, his legs extended in the generous space. He hadn’t wanted any of this seven days ago; but in just that time, everything had shifted into Kylo’s orbit. Hux was being was drawn to him in steady increments that he feared would only grow until they collided.

 

* * *

 

“It starts when you press this button.” Kylo hit it and the console on the table lit up with a message that read “RECORDING.” He was sitting next to Hux on the couch, both of them bent over the console as Kylo taught him to use it for holo messages. The process was simple enough, and Kylo had programmed the console to recognize Hux’s biometrics. He had only to choose a book to read and start recording the messages.

“That’s all you need to do,” Kylo said, cutting off the recording. He sat back, bouncing on the couch cushions and jostling Hux. “What are you going to read me first? Nothing about the Rebellion, okay? I know all that stuff.”

“Something else, then,” said Hux. He would have to decide later; his datapad was still on the bedside table in his quarters. After he had left the refresher, he had toweled his hair dry and dressed as if he was going out rather than remaining on the station. He even put on his boots.

Kylo didn’t really need any rations transferred to the _Arrow_. He already had everything aboard, and had since their trip planetside yesterday. Putting that aside, Hux went to the viewport and looked out over Ryden 2. The storms of the morning had passed, and the land masses and blue oceans were visible. He wondered if the water was more hospitable somewhere on the planet, rather than the dangerous water on Nati 5. Maybe he could go swimming there someday, if Kylo would take him.

His discontent with being left behind was increasing until it bordered on anger. He didn’t have any right to object to Kylo having a personal errand to run, but he just didn’t want to be abandoned. Surely he could fly with Kylo to the destination and then remain aboard the _Arrow_ instead of going with him. He considered asking him, but he had already been given his directions, and didn’t want to whine about them like a child. Moving one foot back and shifting his weight into it, he crossed his arms over his chest.

There was always the prospect of stowing away. He hadn’t really considered it seriously, but all he would need was to hide until Kylo got far enough away from Ryden that he wouldn’t turn back. Then Hux could reveal himself—likely to Kylo’s intense displeasure. He didn’t want to make Kylo hate him, which something so reckless might cause. Kylo could throw him out on his ass with nothing to show for it. Hux didn’t think he would, but testing Kylo’s goodwill wasn’t altogether wise. No, it would be stupid of him to steal onto the _Arrow_. He would stay on the station and read his book like he was told.

“You look like you’re thinking hard on something,” Kylo said, coming up beside him. “Pensive. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Hux replied. “Just looking.”

Kylo mimicked his pose. “It’s a nice planet. Got a little of everything. You ever miss Arkanis?”

“I hardly knew it. I spent more time on starships than planetside.” Hux glanced at him. “You never told me where you were born.”

Kylo sucked his teeth. “No, I didn’t.”

Ah, that was the way of it, then. Hux said nothing else.

“Chandrila,” Kylo said. “In the Core.”

Hux had never been to the Core worlds before. They were the center of the galaxy both physically and in terms of culture and wealth. Chandrila was the seat of the New Republic, Leia Organa’s domain, and maybe that of her lover, Han Solo.

“Did you like it there?” Hux asked.

Kylo replied with Hux’s own words: “I hardly knew it. I spent most of my childhood with my uncle. He lived...elsewhere.”

“But I thought you grew up with your father,” Hux said. “You learned his trade.”

Kylo held up his right arm. “Not until after the accident. But I lived with Dad from sixteen on.”

“And what does your uncle do?”

“He was a teacher. I was one of his students at a kind of private academy.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a half-hearted smile. “It wasn’t a bad place to grow up. I liked it, once upon a time. But I’m glad I took after Han. It’s a better life.”

“He seems like a good man,” said Hux.

Kylo laughed. “Oh, he’s not, trust me.”

“What does that make you?” Hux asked slyly.

Kylo shot him a look. “A no-good swindler to some, but mostly just a decent transporter. I don’t have Dad’s reputation.”

_Or his history with the Rebellion._

Kylo had offered to show him the console then, and they had gone over together. As they sat there now, Kylo said, “Well, I had better do the last-minute flight checks before I get going. You want to come down and see?”

“All right.”

They went to the hangar and into the cockpit of the _Arrow_. Kylo carried a duffel of his clothing for the trip, but Hux was empty-handed. They sat in their appointed places and Kylo walked Hux through a series of preflight procedures, including bringing up a navigational chart. It showed an Outer Rim planet called Kubindi and a certain location on the globe where Kylo would presumably be landing. Hux knew nothing about it.

“Okay,” Kylo said, putting the final coordinates into the computer. “That’s it. I’m ready to go. You want me to walk back with you?”

“No,” said Hux. “Don’t bother. I’ll see myself off.” He rose. “When should I expect my first holo message?”

Kylo grinned. “I’ll surprise you.”

“Very well. Have a safe trip, Kylo.” Hux left him there, making his way into the belly of the ship toward the loading door. He was just reaching it when he spotted an open panel in the cargo hold. It was easily six feet high and five feet wide, perfect for hiding illicit cargo. Or someone about Hux’s size.

Oh, it was a very stupid idea. He had no clothing packed and express instructions to stay on the station. Every year of training in the First Order demanded he follow his orders, but he was already across the hold and slipping into the nook. He was able to drag the panel over, and hoped it wasn’t locked from the outside. He was seated against the bulkhead, his knees pulled up to his chest, when the engines fired up and the _Arrow_ flew out into open space.

 

* * *

 

Hux had no chronometer, and unable to tell the time, he simply sat in the hold in a kind of half-meditation, which he sometimes used when he was scouting a target. It was his alternative to sleep. He considered the fallout of this, too, while he waited. He should have been more worried about it, he reasoned, than he actually was. He couldn’t decide if that boded well or ill.

It wasn’t highly perceptible, but Hux felt a certain shift in the _Arrow_ ’s propulsion when it slowed. Hours had passed, surely, but how many, he didn’t know. With trepidation, he slid the panel out of his way and crept out of the hidden compartment. He stretched, rolling his shoulders and cracking the vertebrae in his neck. He could wait until Kylo came down to the hold, or go up into the living quarters and just get it over with. Fisting his hands, he decided on going up, and forced himself to start toward the fore of the ship.

Presumably, Kylo was in the cockpit, but Hux didn’t want to startle him there. Instead, he stopped in the center of the lounge and stood waiting. The _Arrow_ shuddered slightly as it landed and the engines began to spool down. Hux braced himself as he heard brisk, heavy footfalls. Seconds later, Kylo appeared, head bent as he looked over a datapad.

“Kylo,” Hux said.

He skidded to a stop a few paces away, looking sharply up. “Hux?”

“Yes.”

The surprise faded, replaced by the expected ire. “What in the _kriff_ are you doing here?” He stormed close, latching onto Hux’s arm and backing him against the bulkhead. “You _can’t_ be here.”

“I know I shouldn’t have come,” Hux said, “but—”

“You knew and you still did,” Kylo snarled. He shook Hux slightly, but without the intention to hurt him. “Damn it all, Hux, why didn’t you just listen to me? You can’t...you can’t know this part of me.”

Hux asked, “Why?”

“Because it’s _private_. I told you that.” He pinched his eyes shut for a moment, but then said, “Having you here could get both of us killed. The kind of people I have to deal with take these transactions seriously: life and death. If I mess this up, it could ruin _years_ of planning.”

“I...I’m sorry. It was wrong of me.”

Kylo backed away, letting Hux free of his iron grip. “Yes, it was, but you’re here now. What am I going to do with you?”

Hux rubbed his palms on his thighs, a rare show of uncertainty. “I’ll stay aboard the ship. Let you do your business without hindering you.”

“I can’t do that,” Kylo said. “I don’t know how long this is going to take, and...I could use your sharp eyes. But you can’t be part of the deal. You’ll have to stay by the door.” He gave him a warning look. “Will you do as you’re told this time?”

“Yes,” said Hux, contrite. “Should I be armed?”

Kylo tapped the handle of his own blaster—the new one, Hux saw—and gave a short nod. “I don’t know exactly what we’re walking into here, so yes.” He pushed past Hux, heading for the arms safe. Hux caught sight of an unusual cylindrical object fastened to the back of his belt. He had never seen anything like it before, and wondered if that had something to do with the deal Kylo was making.

Hux armed himself, slipping his blaster into its holster. “Do we need to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, we should. Just stay quiet, okay?”

“I’ll be silent,” Hux promised. “Follow your lead. No shooting anyone without permission.”

Kylo’s solemnity cracked for a short laugh. “Better not. Come on, let’s go.”

Leaving the _Arrow_ put them in the middle of a desert, where grit was carried on the wind. There was an outpost about fifty feet away, the corrugated durasteel of the buildings weathered and sand-swept. Hux’s boots sank an inch into that sand as he and Kylo walked toward the outpost.

The interior was dingy, dark, and smelled of animal sweat. A few figures were scattered around, but none of them looked up when Kylo and Hux entered. However, Kylo seemed to know where he was going. There were three humans sitting in a back corner by a makeshift bar, and all of them wore red bands on their left arms, over their clothing. Hux hadn’t noted it before, but Kylo had a piece of red fabric hanging from his belt beside the blaster. Some kind of signal, then.

“Stay here,” Kylo muttered, pointing to a stool near the door. Hux went to it and sat, watching as Kylo sat at the table. He conversed with the other humans, but Hux turned his attention to the other creatures in the building. They kept mostly to themselves, some drinking while others sat in conference or played dice.

There was a digital chronometer on the far wall, and Hux counted the minutes: ten, twenty, twenty-five. He guessed he would be waiting for a while yet, and was about to settle in when he began to see eyes turning toward Kylo’s back table. It was undue attention, impossible to miss. Hux scanned the room and did not like the way hands were straying to where weapons could be hidden. There was tension in the air that Hux recognized. Though he had been warned to stay by the door, he slipped off his stool and went to Kylo’s table. All the humans looked suspiciously up at him.

“Hux,” said Kylo, low. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re going to be attacked,” he whispered. “And soon.” Kylo moved to look, but Hux landed a hand on his shoulder. “Keep your eyes down. We need to go.”

“Who are they?” one of the others asked. “We were discreet getting here.”

“Hired muscle,” said Hux. “Mercenaries.”

“How could they have found out?” said the woman of the group. She looked to be no more than eighteen.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kylo said. “We need to get you off-planet as soon as possible.” He shot Hux a glance. “How much time do we have?”

“Minutes, at most,” Hux replied. “If we get up together, though, they’ll come for us. Do the others have blasters?”

“No.”

“Then we have to cut a path to the door, just you and me.”

Kylo reached around to his back, where the cylinder was clipped. “Let me go first. You just cover me.”

“All right,” Hux said. “As soon as you stand—”

“I know. Stay with me.” With the cylinder in hand, he pushed Hux away from him as he stood up. Everything happened in a flash, then: the mercenaries drew their weapons, as did Hux, and a blade of red plasma shot out from the weapon in Kylo’s hands. He charged toward the bar, where a gaggle of mercs were advancing. In an instant, they were cut down, wounds steaming from cauterization.

Hux was, for a few seconds, completely enraptured. He had only ever heard legends of such weapons, of _lightsabers_ , the laser swords of the Jedi. And here was Kylo, a smuggler of middling repute, wielding one with fearsome precision. The blade sliced through bone and flesh, but also the durasteel of the blasters the mercs carried, without any resistance. It was the most deadly, awesome weapon Hux had ever laid eyes on.

With considerable effort, Hux tore his attention away from Kylo to start shooting, hitting several mercs in quick succession, incapacitating them, but not killing. Kylo wasn’t so careful. With the lightsaber, he cut a swath through the building to the door. Hux stayed at his six o’clock, firing freely at any being that came too close to Kylo. He watched in fascination as Kylo deflected blaster bolts with his saber as if they were no more than flies to swat. Each bolt exploded in a spray of sparks as it hit the blade.

Hux shot by rote, his gaze darting easily between targets. The mercs were sloppy in the face of Kylo, who was admittedly terrifying in his merciless battle rage. Hux was struck dumb once again as Kylo transferred the lightsaber to his right hand and extended his left toward the door. The two mercs in his path went flying back at least three feet and struck the wall with a resonant _clang_. The door beside them seemed to open of its own accord, and Kylo shoved the three other humans through it to safety. His face was contorted in fury and red with the glow of the saber. Hux would never have expected such furor from the easy-to-laugh Kylo he thought he knew.

“Get out,” Kylo ordered.

Hux went to duck past him, but was nearly intercepted by one of the last mercs standing. The woman froze a pace away from him, her whole body rigid. She wrapped her hands around her throat, scrabbling at it.

“Who do you work for?” Kylo demanded. He still had his left arm extended, holding her up from four paces.

She gurgled something incomprensible, and then gasped as the pressure on her throat was presumably released.

Kylo repeated the question: “Who do you work for?”

“I don’t know,” the woman said, voice broken. “We were hired through an agent. Just supposed to kill the three.” Her eyes were wide with terror. “They didn’t say anything about _you_.”

Seemingly disgusted with that answer, Kylo, with a flick of his wrist, threw her aside, knocking her unconscious. To Hux: “What are you waiting for? _Get out._ ”

This time Hux obeyed without question, dashing back out into the sand and wind. The three other humans were cowering a few feet away. Hux went to them, training his blaster on the door; but he didn’t think any other mercenaries were coming out. He steadied his breathing and his heart rate, as he had been trained to do, all the while waiting for Kylo to appear. He did, after another minute or two.

He looked completely in order, and his lightsaber—powered down to just an innocuous-looking hilt—was in his right hand. He made his way in measured steps across the sand to where Hux’s bedraggled group was gathered. He looked past Hux, though, to the others.

“You’re compromised,” he said. “You have to get to a safehouse and lie low until you get the all-clear. You have an unregistered shuttle?”

The woman nodded. “We’ll destroy it after we get the safehouse.”

“Good. I’ll send word that you should be picked up.” Kylo clipped the saber back onto his belt. “Stay safe.”

They mumbled acknowledgements and scampered away toward the opposite side of the compound, leaving Hux to stare at Kylo’s profile in uncomprehending awe. He had a hundred questions, the answers to which he was almost afraid to hear. Kylo was like some creature out of time: a warrior for the Old Republic in a world where they were extinct.

“Are they all dead?” Hux asked.

“Not all,” Kylo replied coolly. “The survivors can see to their dead and get back to whatever garbage heap they came from to tell their employers they failed.” He turned to Hux, expression hard. “We’ll get off-planet.”

Hux fell into step with him, unspeaking as they made their way back to the _Arrow._ Once aboard, they went straight to the cockpit, and Kylo fired up the engines. They took off without preamble, Kylo completely focused on his task until they broke atmo. He typed a command into the console, and another world appeared in holographic display. The name read _D’Qar_.

When the stars blurred as they entered hyperspace, Kylo released the yoke and said, “I need a drink. To Hux: “Come have one with me.”

In the lounge, he pulled out the same green liquor Han had served them and popped the cork out with his teeth. The glasses he poured were not small. He pressed one into Hux’s hands and took a slow seat on the couch. Hux chose one of the chairs across from him. He considered staying silent and just drinking until he was feeling less tense, but decided against it. He had to know.

“You have the Force,” he said, measured. “That’s what it was, wasn’t it? What you did to that woman. I’ve not seen anyone do that. It’s not natural.”

Kylo snorted, swirling his drink around in his glass. “No, it’s not.”

“And,” Hux continued, “the weapon.”

“The only thing I saved after I left my uncle’s school,” said Kylo. “I built it myself when I was twelve.”

Hux tried to fight the disbelief as he asked, “Are you a Jedi?”

Kylo’s laugh had sharp edges. “No. My uncle, my parents...they all wanted me to be, but after this”—he held up his prosthetic—“I had to let it go.”

“Your family,” Hux said. “Your father was a Rebellion general. Your mother...one, too?”

“I should have known you’d figure it out,” Kylo sighed. “You’re smart, and I should never have introduced you to Han.”

Hux took a steadying sip of his drink, making himself say it: “Leia Organa is your mother. And your uncle, Luke Skywalker.”

“Yes,” Kylo said, sounding resigned. “That’s them.”

“ _Kriff me_ ,” Hux muttered, leaning against the backrest of the chair. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, really. He had hoped Kylo was no one. Hux moistened his lips, hesitant. “Are you part of it? The Resistance?”

Kylo set his glass down, looking hard at him. “What if I was?”

Kill him. That was the standard answer for any stormtrooper. But Hux was supposed to be a mercenary, no better than those on Kubindi. He was preparing a flat answer, another lie, but before he could speak, Kylo said, “What does a First Order sniper have to say to that?”

Hux felt as if he had been struck across the face: stinging astonishment colored with betrayal. Kylo _knew_. He knew and he had played along with Hux’s lies, maybe even encouraged them. And he had the audacity to look perfectly relaxed about it.

“How?” Hux demanded. “How did you find out?”

Kylo blinked owlishly at him. “I have a certain skill that lets me explore someone’s memories. I looked into yours.”

Another strike, this one charged with fury. “You used your Force tricks.”

“What did you expect me to do?” Kylo asked, still calm. “I wasn’t about to take some stranger in tactical armor aboard my ship without knowing something about him.”

Hux was rapidly trying to make sense of all of this. Fumbling, he said, “Are you? Are you Resistance?”

Kylo replied directly, “Yes.”

Hux’s world inverted. All along Kylo had known his loyalties—which were completely at odds with his own—and yet he hadn’t turned Hux out, or killed him, when he easily could have. He had kept him on, treated him fairly, _kindly_.

“You might have let me die in the alley,” Hux said. “If you knew what I was.”

“I didn’t,” said Kylo. “Not yet. And even if I had, nobody deserves that death. It was an execution, you said, by your father—by proxy. Is he General Hux?”

Hux shook his head. “My brother. My father is a commandant, one of the earliest founders of the Order. My family is old Imperial blood.”

Kylo pursed his lips. “You’re the finest the First Order has to offer.”

Hux ran his tongue along the back of his teeth. “What will you do with me, now?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo said. “I didn’t really think this far ahead. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

Hux scowled indignantly. “You thought I was blind enough to not see who your father was, and not suspect your mother? I’m not a fool, Kylo. If that’s even what you’re really called.”

Kylo rubbed his flesh-and-blood hand over his face. “I’ve gone by Kylo for years, but it’s really Ben. Ben Solo.”

Hux pushed a hand through his own hair, still struggling to grasp everything being thrown at him. “Why would you bother to tell me that? We’re all but adversaries and you’re trusting me with this knowledge? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t think you’re a fool,” Kylo said, leaning on his knees. “I guess I was the blind one, thinking I could keep it from you. And I maybe I shouldn’t tell you any of this, but it’s better.” He opened his hands. “You know I can’t let you leave, now. You know too much. I’m supposed to be a covert operative. You could destroy that with a word to the First Order.”

“I didn’t lie when I said I can’t go back,” said Hux. “I’m a deserter. They would put me to death.” He held Kylo’s gaze. “And I still owe you my life.”

Kylo stared at him, seemingly bewildered. “You hate everything I stand for. You probably hate _me_. If not for being Resistance, then for lying to you like you couldn’t figure it out.”

Hux was disconcerted, yes, and had been taught to hate the Resistance, but he didn’t hate Kylo, and he said as much. “I don’t. You were— _are_ —better to me than I deserve, and all the while you knew what I was. I _will_ pay my debt to you.”

“You will,” Kylo said, “but you don’t have to be involved with this work for my mother. You can stay out of it, I wouldn’t blame you. Just let me do it and we’ll work the rest of my jobs. I have more of them, anyway.”

“You don’t really think it’s possible to keep that part of your life from me, do you?” Hux asked. “I’m in it now, and I can’t get out again. Let me come with you. I won’t betray you. I can have no contact with the Order again.” It was the utmost betrayal of family and creed, but he belonged to Kylo now and he would learn to accept his loyalties.

Kylo scooted forward to the edge of the couch, until he could lay his hand on Hux’s knee. “You’re something, you know that? You confuse the hell out of me, but I’ve never known anybody like you.”

Hux covered his hand with his own. He said, in earnest, “Nor I you.”

They kept their eyes on each other for a long moment, in contact but unmoving. What needed to be said already had been. This was their truce.

“Well, Hux—”

“It’s Armitage,” Hux said. “My given name. I haven’t used it since I was six years old, but that’s it.”

“Armitage Hux,” said Kylo. “I like it. Do you want me to call you that?”

“ _Stars,_ no. Just Hux will do.” He cocked a brow. “Ben.”

Kylo made a face. “Absolutely not.”

Despite himself and this bizarre situation, Hux huffed a laugh. “As you say.”

Moving away from him, Kylo picked up his glass again and drained it. “What I was going to say was that I’m about to throw you into the snake pit. We’re going to D’Qar, where the Resistance is based.”

Hux forced himself not to clench his jaw. “I see.”

“It’s going to be complicated with you,” Kylo said.

“I can stay aboard the ship,” Hux offered. “I probably shouldn’t make a nuisance of myself, or cause trouble.”

“For two days?” Kylo asked. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to come. But I, ah, don’t know how my mother’s going to take to you. She wasn’t so keen when I first told her.”

Hux nearly choked on his liquor. “You told her about me?”

“Mmhm. Back when I first found you. I thought maybe you had some information the Resistance could use.” He averted his eyes. “That was the first thing I thought of. Sorry.”

“I don’t blame you,” Hux said. “Why didn’t you take me to her?”

“She didn’t think you would know enough. You were just a trooper. But”—he bit his lower lip—“you’re not. Your father, and your brother…”

Hux thumbed the rim of his glass. “I haven’t seen or spoken to either of them in twenty-eight years. Your mother was right. I don’t know much about high command.”

Kylo rubbed his palms together. “I understand. That might actually make her like you a little better. Maybe she won’t be _as_ tempted to throw you in the brig.”

“I’m going to be a prisoner,” Hux said. He might have thought as much.

“No,” Kylo said. “No, I’ll make sure you’re not. You’re with me. Nobody’s going to do that to you.”

“I’ll just follow your lead, then.” Hux drank down the last of his drink, the burn not so noticeable as it had been the first time. He eyed the bottle.

“Another drink?” Kylo asked.

Hux held out his glass, but Kylo didn’t take it from him. “Let go,” he said. Hux did, and instead of falling to the table, the glass stayed in the air. With a crook of his forefingers, Kylo levitated it to himself and picked up the bottle of fill it again. The liquor spun into a twisting column as it spilled from the mouth of the bottle.

“When did you know you had the Force?” Hux said, plucking the half-full glass from the air when it came close to him again.

“I’ve always known,” said Kylo, seeing to his own glass. “My mother could feel it before I was born. She taught me what she could when I was young, but she doesn’t have the same strength I do. So, she sent me to Luke. To his school. I told you he was a teacher.”

Hux took a drink. “Yes, you did. He taught you...all of this? And what you did at the outpost?”

“He did, starting with the little tricks.” He moved his hand only minutely and the liquor in his glass coalesced into a sphere and rose up above it. He spun it absently. “It’s good way to learn finesse. Not everything about the Force is throwing people across the room. That’s just the most impressive things.”

“You used it when you first found me,” said Hux. “I thought I had imagined it, but you stopped two blaster bolts in midair.”

Kylo dropped the ball of liquor back into this glass. “I try not to use it. It makes me stand out.”

“And a lightsaber doesn’t?”

“Well,” Kylo said, reaching around behind him to unclip the hilt and set it on the table, “when I do certain work, I like to be prepared for anything. We’d be dead if I hadn’t brought it.” At Hux’s curious look, he added, “Go on, you can look at it.”

The hilt was heavier than he had expected, hollow durasteel contoured to the hand. He had never used a bladed weapon other than the small knife he carried. Only hand-to-hand specialists ever learned melee techniques.

“You said you made it yourself.”

“I did,” said Kylo. “All padawans do when we’re old enough to carry one.”

“Padawans?” Hux asked.

“Young learners. Before you’re formally apprenticed, you’re a padawan. It’s a holdover from the Old Republic. Luke didn’t actually know much about it until he read some of the old Jedi texts. He was never a padawan, only an apprentice to two masters.”

Hux ran his thumb over the button to engage the blade. “You were his apprentice.”

“No,” Kylo said. “I left before I could be. But the others were. He was the only master. I was the oldest, and would have been first, but he took on the next in line. There’s more than one Jedi master now.”

“Do you ever see them?”

“Sometimes on D’Qar, if they’re there, but that’s rarely. They have their own business to see to. I couldn’t actually tell you what that is.”

Hux set the saber back down on the table. “Does that mean the masters are stronger than you?”

Kylo frowned, tapping his fingers on the side of his glass. “They’re better trained, and they know more of the nuances of the Force.”

“That’s not an answer,” Hux said.

“I had the most raw strength. The others didn’t always like that.”

Hux recognized the solitude of excellence; he had known it himself. “I was the keenest shot in my unit. I held all the records. I had the admiration of many, but the hatred of more.”

Kylo hummed. “They weren’t really upset when I left. Although there was a girl...she didn’t mind me. But she was too little to know much better. Rey. She’s Luke’s apprentice now.”

“What happened to your arm?” Hux asked.

Kylo chewed his cheek. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time before we reach D’Qar, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Kylo said. “We do. But there’s something I need to hear first. What do you know about Snoke?”

“Very little,” said Hux. “Most troopers don’t even know his name, only that we have a Supreme Leader. My father spoke of him when I was a child. I was not aware he had the Force.” He tipped his head to the side. “That’s what you meant, before, when you said he came into your head to teach you.”

Kylo nodded. “He’s powerful, but allied himself with the dark side. He was trying to get me to embrace it. He still does, sometimes, in dreams.”

Hux contained his shock as best he could. “You have a direct connection to the Supreme Leader?”

“I guess I do,” Kylo said. “Is that a problem for you?”

“I don’t know what to make of it,” said Hux. “I have never seen or spoken to him. No one outside of high command even entertains an audience.”

Kylo ran his left hand over his hair, tugging briefly at the tail. “He wants an apprentice in me, and always has.”

“You never considered going?”

“Sure I did, but when his knights came to take me away, I chose Luke. I fought them, and they maimed me.”

Hux might have pitied him then, but he didn’t. Kylo surely would rather have had his flesh-and-blood arm, but he didn’t suffer for missing it. “You’re stronger for it.”

Kylo laughed lightly. “I don’t know about that, but I’ve come to terms with it. It’s better than the alternative.” He winced, and Hux filled in the rest for him:

“You could have joined the First Order.”

“Look, Hux,” Kylo said, “I’m not going to make this a problem if you won’t. I won’t make you work with the Resistance—”

Hux held up a hand. “We already discussed this. There will be no problems.”

“Okay,” Kylo conceded. “Sorry to bring it up. I believe you.”

“I suppose, though,” Hux said, “I’m doing what you chose not to do: defect.” It might have felt wrong, but he found it didn’t—not really.

“You didn’t have much of a choice,” said Kylo. “Getting mixed up with me meant you had to do it.”

That was true enough, but he said, “Once I might have preferred death, but I’d rather have this.” He met Kylo’s gaze and held it. “I’d rather be with you.”

Kylo opened his mouth to speak, but Hux shook his head. Abandoning his drink and his chair, he crossed to where Kylo sat. Kylo tipped his face up to see him, and Hux brushed his hands over his hair until he held him at the nape of his neck. Kylo was watching him fixedly, hope worn plainly in his expression. Taking his chance, Hux steadied himself on Kylo’s shoulders and knelt over his lap.

Kylo’s protest was soft: “Hux, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Hux said, massaging the back of Kylo’s neck with his fingertips. “Is it really so hard to see that?”

Kylo was clearly warring with himself, but he put his arms around Hux’s waist. “I can’t do it if you think you _have to_.”

“I did, at first,” said Hux, “but when you refused, I was disappointed. I wanted you anyway.” He tugged at the tie in Kylo’s hair until it slid out. He was loath to even risk saying it, but he did: “If you really won’t have me, I’ll leave you, but—”

“Don’t go,” Kylo said, pulling Hux against him. “If you’re willing—”

Hux shifted even closer. “I’m willing. Do this with me.” He touched the tips of their noses together. “Kylo.”

“ _Stars_ ,” Kylo breathed as he kissed Hux’s mouth.

His lips were soft and full, just as Hux remembered from that first night. They were in nearly the same place they had been: with Hux in his lap, clutching at him hungrily. And there was even greater need now, when it was clear they both wanted to be here. When Kylo’s tongue brushed Hux’s lower lip, he gladly opened for him. Kylo made a low sound, and deepened the kiss. They both tasted of liquor, and Hux savored it along with the slickness of Kylo’s tongue, the heat of his mouth.

He was solid against Hux’s chest and hips as they held each other, and Hux was aware of every place Kylo touched. His hold was firm but not demanding, letting Hux accustom himself to it all. But Hux didn’t want to be coddled; he wanted Kylo to show and teach, take and give whatever he craved.

“You’re torture, you know that?” Kylo murmured as he kissed Hux’s chin and down to his jaw. “Staying away was agony. I wanted everything you’d offered and more.” He sucked at Hux’s pulse point. “I’m a greedy man.”

Hux let his head fall back to give Kylo access to his throat, which he trailed his lips up and down, nibbling. “If you were that, we’d already have been here.”

Kylo ignored that, continuing with his own narration: “When you were in the ‘fresher in nothing at all, I could have devoured you.”

“I would have let you,” said Hux as he sought Kylo’s mouth again. “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

Kylo nuzzled him. “Say it again, so I know it’s true.”

“I want to be in your bed, Kylo,” Hux said. Kylo slid his hands down to Hux’s ass, holding him tightly, fingers digging into the muscle. They kissed hard and long—fevered—as Hux put his fingers in Kylo’s hair. His body was burning, and he was hard in his trousers, cock straining against the fly. He wanted to be out of them, and everything else. Letting go of Kylo, he pulled his shirt from under his belt and off over his head. Kylo’s attention went immediately to his bare chest, where he landed kisses along his flat pectorals. Hux gave a stuttered groan as he took his left nipple into his mouth.

“You’ve got the softest skin,” Kylo said. “And you smell _so good_. The things I want to do to you...” He lifted his face. “What do you like?”

Hux, conscious of his complete inexperience, replied, “Whatever you do.”

Kylo adjusted his hold on him to fit as much of his ass into his palms as he could. “Tell me what you want.” His smile was feral. “I’ll do just about anything.”

“I…” Hux started. “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

Kylo’s teasing humor faded, his eyes going soft. Hux braced.

“I’m your first?” Kylo asked.

“Yes,” Hux replied. “Is that...a problem?”

Rushed, reassuring: “ _Of course not._ ” He pressed a kiss to Hux’s lips. “We’re just going to have to handle things a little differently.”

Hux pulled back, suspicious. “I want to give you what you want. I’m not afraid.”

Kylo lifted his bare hand to stroke Hux’s back. “I know you’re not. You’re probably the most fearless person I’ve ever met. But we have to do this right.” He glanced to each side of the lounge. “A freighter isn’t really the best place. All we have are bunks. There’s no room for both of us there.”

“Have me here,” said Hux, nipping at Kylo’s lips.

Kylo’s groan reverberated through both of their chests. “ _Stars,_ that’s tempting, but we can’t. I don’t have anything we need. I wasn’t exactly expecting this.”

Hux had altogether forgotten about lubricant, protection. “Then what can we do?”

“Everything else,” Kylo said with a grin. “Can you stand up?”

Hux didn’t want to let go of him, but he did, and managed to get to his feet. Kylo stood, too, looking Hux over. With a gentle hand, he touched the skin around Hux’s wound.

“Is this okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” said Hux.

Kylo traced the edge. “You’re going to get your scar.”

“Yes.”

“It’ll look good on you.”

Hux caught his hand and brought it to his lips. “Can I see you? You’ve seen me.”

Kylo cupped his chin. “You can see any part of me you want.” He went first for the holster at his thigh, removing the belt along with it. Hux did the same, and laid his weapon aside. Kylo toed off his boots, and Hux had to hold back a laugh at the hole in the toe of his sock. Tyrish would never have stood for it. Hux sat to remove his own boots as well. Logistically, the first night he had gone to Kylo, it would have been much simpler to undress. He had been wearing only a pair of Kylo’s sleep pants, and Kylo had been barefoot. This arrangement was somewhat more complicated. Still, they managed.

Kylo stripped off his shirt and trousers, leaving him in only a pair of black shorts. The floor was cold on Hux’s feet as he stood again to lower his trousers. By the time he stood back up, Kylo was nude and clearly waiting to be appraised. Hux didn’t hesitate. His body was broad from shoulders to waist; his hips were square and the hair between his long legs was dark and well-groomed. The place where his prosthetic arm met his shoulder was slightly scarred, but flesh and metal met smoothly.

“Will this do?” Kylo asked, playful.

Hux stepped over his discarded clothing to lay his hands on Kylo’s chest. He was close enough that their cocks touched, and he shuddered.

Kylo ran his left hand down Hux’s back from shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks. Since Hux had taken off his shirt, he had been very careful not to touch him with the right. Hux, though, took hold of his wrist and set the silver hand on his hip. Kylo was uncertain, but when Hux touched the elbow and then bicep, he relaxed.

“Sit down,” he said, guiding Hux back toward the chair. He pressed down on Hux’s shoulders until he sank onto it, and then he dropped to his knees between Hux’s spread legs. “This’ll feel good, I promise.” He winked. “I don’t bite.”

Hux was about to ask what he he meant, but before he could say a word, Kylo licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, cutting off any sound other than a shocked gasp. Lips parted, Kylo took the tip of him into his mouth. He paid it good attention before looking back up at Hux and saying, “Put your hands in my hair.” Hux did as he was told, and Kylo went back to work.

Hux was overwhelmed. Kylo teased the tip of him with his tongue before taking Hux deeper, swallowing around him. He took Hux’s testicles in his left hand on rolled them softly. Between that and the feeling of Kylo’s mouth around his cock—faster for a moment and then slower the next—Hux was lost.

Kylo’s head bobbed as he worked, and Hux held tight to his hair. He expected him at some point to gag, but he never did, even when he took Hux almost to the base. From time to time, he would pull up to the tip and look up at Hux through his dark eyelashes. Hux could only imagine how wrecked he himself looked. He was panting, and his entire chest and neck were flushed pink, and burning hot. As Kylo turned his eyes up, Hux took a firmer grip of his hair. Kylo seemed to approve, groaning and sending shockwaves up Hux’s spine.

“I can’t take much more,” Hux said, strained. “I’m close.” It was the due warning so Kylo could pull away, but he didn’t. He took Hux deep again, pressing his forefingers in the place just behind Hux’s testicles. “ _Oh, there_ ,” Hux gasped as he came. His body shook with it, wracking him with sparks of pleasure. Kylo stroked him through it, until he was tugging at his hair to get him to stop.

“Good?” Kylo asked, his voice raspy.

Hux gave a wordless nod, cupping Kylo’s cheek. Kylo leaned into his fingers, eyes closed.

“Let me do that for you?” Hux said.

Kylo set both of his palms on Hux’s thighs. “We’ll get there, but not yet. Just use your hands.” He took one in his left, kissing the fingertips. “You don’t know how much I’ve thought about watching you touch me with them.”

“Where?” Hux asked.

Kylo turned to the couch again. “I’ll lie down. You kneel over me so I can see you.” He got up, knees creaking, and went to the seat. He lay down, stretching his legs out, and gestured for Hux to come to him. Hux padded over and slung his leg over Kylo’s thighs until he was sitting atop them. It afforded him a good view of his cock: he was thick around the base, an inch longer than Hux, maybe, and he was circumcised.

“It feels so good to have you like this,” Kylo said, his hands behind his head. “After that first night...I needed more.”

“Me, too,” said Hux as he reached down and took Kylo’s cock in his hand. The skin was warm and soft as it slid over the hardness beneath. Kylo closed his eyes for a brief few seconds, but then went back to watching Hux. “How do you like it?” Hux asked.

“However you want to do it,” Kylo replied. “I’ll tell you if I need anything different.”

“All right.” Hux started with slow strokes, as he had done himself in the shower earlier that day. It had been so short a time, and now here he was with Kylo laid out before him, waiting to be pleasured. Another lance of arousal pierced Hux’s gut.

He took Kylo in as he stroked him: planes of stomach and chest to the dip of his collarbone and the mess of his hair and long arms stretched above his head. Hux wanted to taste each place, maybe even mark some of them; once he had something, he claimed it for his.

“ _Ah_ , that’s so good,” Kylo said, his chin tipped down to keep his eyes on what Hux was doing. Hux turned his attention there, too, and gave a twist of his wrist. Kylo growled. It wasn’t much, but Hux licked his palm to ease the strokes, which he sped until Kylo’s chest was rising and falling with rapid breaths, and the muscles of his legs were taut under Hux.

“Keep going,” Kylo panted. “I’m so close. Hux, _stars_.” He arched his back as he came, spattering his naked chest and belly with his release. Hux expelled a hard breath at the sight of it: base and erotic. With his free hand, he dipped his fingers into some of it and dragged it down toward Kylo’s navel, a glistening trail. Kylo began to go soft in Hux’s grasp, so he gave him a last touch before letting go.

Hux was about to ask if he should find a towel when Kylo crooked his fingers and his shirt levitated into his hand. He wiped himself clean with it and dropped it on the floor. Arms held out in invitation, he said, “Come here.”

Hux lay down on top of him, kissing him once before laying his head on his shoulder.

Kylo rubbed his back. “If I have my way, we’re going to be doing a lot of that.”

Hux chuckled. “Yes, we are.”

“I wish we hadn’t waited so long, but I don’t regret that we did.” He drew circles absently across Hux’s flanks. “I’d rather have you know the truth about me before we got into this.”

“How did you look into my memories?” Hux asked.

“Well,” Kylo replied, “everything and everyone is connected to the Force. Even if you can’t use it, you have a tie to it. I found it and followed it into your mind. I didn’t look far. Just enough to know that you were a trooper, and that it was your men who tried to kill you.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I was hurting you. It’s not a painless process to get into someone’s head.” He toyed with the short hair at the back of Hux’s head. “Not everything about the Force is used for good.”

Hux knew about the dark side, and didn’t bother to ask, even if his knowledge was limited. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to learn, in the end.

“I’ll tell you anything else you want to know,” he said. “About me, about the Order. If there’s anything I can say that would be of use.”

Kylo held him tightly around the waist with his prosthetic, the metal warmed by the contact. “I should care about the Order, but I’d rather know more about you. Were some of the stories you told me about the ‘mercs’ actually missions with your unit?”

“They were. I have many more. Would you like to hear one?”

“Maybe after we have a sonic and get dressed,” said Kylo. “You’ve got goosebumps already.”

Hux hadn’t realized his body had cooled so much, but he was chilly. “Can we clean up together?”

“No. Unfortunately. That will have to wait until we get back to the station.” He kissed Hux’s hair. “If I can wait that long.”

“I’m sure we can survive a few more days,” Hux said.

Kylo shifted under him, latching onto his ass. “If you think we’re not doing this again before that, you’re dead wrong.”

Hux propped his chin up on Kylo’s chest, looking at him. “I suppose I can agree to that.”

“Suppose?” Kylo asked, wrinkling his nose in false displeasure.

Hux grinned. “I wholeheartedly agree to that.”

Kylo bounced him up with his hips, teasing. “Damn right. Now, kiss me, and then get in the sonic.”

Hux took his clothes with him to the head. He didn’t want to wash Kylo from himself yet, but the sand on Kubindi had gotten into places he’d prefer it not be. When he was finished, he dressed again, though he left his boots off. Those he dropped in the sleeping quarters, where Kylo was lying in his bunk, still fully nude. Seeing Hux, he rolled to his feet and caught him around the waist to pull him in for a kiss.

“Go have another drink,” he said. “It’ll warm you up, and I’ll be right there. Then you can tell me all the stories you have.”

He dashed into the head, and Hux followed at slower pace, returning to the lounge to pour himself more liquor. He sat in the place where Kylo had lain to wait. The revelations of the day spiraled around in his thoughts, but those of the last half hour outweighed the things that, rationally, should be more important. He worked for the Resistance now, and yet all he could think about was the way Kylo had looked up at him with his cock in his mouth, or how relentlessly they had kissed. Hux had known for years that sex was a distraction, and he had thought it one he couldn’t afford as a trooper. With Kylo, though, he was free to enjoy it.

Taking a sip of his drink, he smiled to himself. Kylo had walked in front of him on the way to the head, providing an enticing view of his ass. Hux could imagine the redness of a handprint across one or both cheeks. He wanted to leave them, and then admire his work.

“What are you grinning about?” Kylo asked from where he was leaning against the bulkhead. “Feeling good?”

“Very,” Hux replied. “Will you have a drink?”

Kylo peeled himself away from the bulkhead and sauntered over to take the glass Hux offered him. “Thanks. Can I sit with you?” With Hux’s permission, he took the place right beside him and put an arm over his shoulders, drawing him in. Hux moved close, accepting the embrace. “Okay,” Kylo said. “Give me your best stormtrooper story.”

Hux had one already picked out, and he began, “It was a four-day mission to scout a target and eliminate him…” As he talked, they inched closer to the side of the couch, until Kylo was sitting against the arm and Hux was against his chest, their legs extended side-by-side.

“Tell me another,” Kylo said when he was finished.

“One of yours,” said Hux. “If you don’t mind.”

Kylo set his chin on Hux’s shoulder. “I like listening to you better. Please?”

Hux gave in, and started anew. Kylo held him throughout, his attention never wavering, and Hux was content.


	8. Chapter 8

Kylo lay awake after he and Hux had left the lounge for their bunks several hours and stories later, still caught up in what they had done. Hux now knew all his secrets—his allegiance to the Resistance, his parentage, his name—but he hadn’t turned away; he had come straight into Kylo’s arms. He had been so warm and soft as Kylo held him, and he had made the most arousing sounds as Kylo sucked his cock. Kylo had enough practice and assurance in his technique that he thought he had done well for him; and he had been overcome as Hux had stroked him, his narrow, steady hands grasping his cock, and his gaze flicking over Kylo’s body.

The time they spent together after had been good, too: his arms around Hux as he told him of his missions and the successes he had had. He was an exceptional soldier, if his versions of the stories were anything to go by. Kylo didn’t think he would lie about them, but neither was he falsely modest. The pride was admirable, and endearing. Hux had charmed Kylo from the start, but now he had won him completely.

Finally, Kylo had drifted off to sleep, though he was up only a few restless hours later. He got out of bed and pulled on a shirt and his socks, pausing briefly to venture a look at Hux. He slept soundly on his side, his hair tousled and cheek deep in the pillow. One of his hands lay at the edge of the bunk, and Kylo was so tempted to touch it, but he suspected Hux would wake, and he didn’t want to disturb him. Instead, he snuck out of the room and toward the cockpit.

They were about two hours from D’Qar, and Kylo would have to be prepared with the security codes as soon as they entered the system. The Resistance had regular patrols of X-wing fighters throughout the space around the planet, and they had orders to shoot down anything that didn’t have clearance. The _Arrow_ would be recognized, but she still wasn’t to be trusted until they knew it was Kylo flying her.

In hyperspace, he couldn’t adjust their course, but he pulled up the navigational charts. He barely looked at them, though, thinking instead about what he was going to say to Leia when he turned up with the stormtrooper she had told him to get rid of as not only his crewmember, but now his lover. Not that she needed to know that bit, but she had her ways of finding out. Damn Han; he had been absolutely right in presuming that Kylo would take Hux’s “companionship” if given the chance. And Leia was even more perceptive than Han was. Kylo was better off just being forthright.

However, he wasn’t exactly sure what Hux expected from this arrangement. He had enthusiastically agreed that they would sleep together again, but that didn’t necessarily imply anything more than that. But how he had spoken about staying with Kylo stuck out in his memory: “I’d rather be with you.” There was something there beyond sex, and there had been before things had come to a head. Hux had told him his business with his father could wait, that he wasn’t in a rush to leave his life with Kylo. He had lied—somewhat poorly—about his past, but Kylo thought he had been earnest when he said that. Or maybe it was just him wishing that he meant it.

Kylo powered down the display of D’Qar. He was in over his head with Hux: invested in him, craving him. He was the first man Kylo had wanted to keep in a long time. He would have to, of course—what he said about Hux knowing too much to be released was true—but he wanted a lover in him, too. If Hux would have him.

He extended the fingers of his prosthetic arm, looking over the tactile sensors on the palm and fingertips. He generally didn’t use it in sex for fear that it might put his partner off, but Hux had made a point of setting it on his hip. Kylo hated that he could only feel the resistance of an object in his hand, but at least he had been able to hold Hux with both of them, and to explore him with the rest of his body, his mouth.

He had so many more ideas of what they could do together, and was somewhat annoyed that they had to go to D’Qar instead of returning to the Ryden station, where they could spend days in his bed just learning what they liked and wanted from each other. But maybe they could find quarters on-planet to share. He flinched. It was really going to be impossible to hide from Leia if they bunked together. Ah, kark it; he’d do it, if it Hux was amenable.

Kylo shifted in the pilot’s chair, feeling the blood drop toward his groin. He wanted Hux again, and badly. If he wasn’t concerned about hauling him out of bed, he would have, taking him back to the lounge to strip him down and touch every part of him he could. But he needed rest rather than Kylo’s cock.

Taking the datapad from its dock in the console, Kylo pulled up the book he had planned to ask Hux to read to him if he couldn’t choose anything himself. It was a novel about an Abyssin assassin he had been meaning to read for a while. He figured even if it turned out to be a disappointment, he would have had Hux’s voice to soften the blow. His quiet murmurs of pleasure came back into Kylo’s mind, and he almost groaned. Hux was going to be in his head like this for weeks yet, as it always was with a new lover. Kylo wouldn’t be able to get enough of him.

With the datapad in hand, Kylo propped his feet up on the console and started to read. Hopefully the book would be enough to distract him for a while, maybe until Hux woke up and Kylo could have him again.

 

* * *

 

“Hello.”

An hour later, Kylo turned to see Hux—still in his sleeping clothes—standing next to his seat in the cockpit. He was alert, but the vestiges of sleep clung to him, as if he had come here straight after waking. Kylo liked the idea that his first thought was to find him.

“Good morning,” Kylo said, swinging out of the chair. “Did you get some shuteye?”

“Yes,” said Hux. One corner of his mouth curved slightly up. “You might have tired me out.”

Kylo grinned, slipping an arm around Hux’s waist. “Well, I’m glad you’re rested up because I’ve got plans for you.” When he moved in closer, Hux met him for a kiss. He tasted of toothpaste; Kylo wasn’t his first stop, then. More forward than before, Hux tongued Kylo’s lips until he opened his mouth, and then he was inside. Kylo made an approving sound and pulled Hux tighter in to him. Hux slid his hands down to Kylo’s waist to toy with the elastic band of his sleep pants.

“Frisky in the morning,” Kylo said in a brief respite from their kisses.

“Is that wrong?” Hux asked, withdrawing slightly.

Kylo nudged his nose with his own. “No, not at all. I am, too.” A press of lips. “Been thinking about you. Tried to read, but…”

Hux raised the hem of Kylo’s shirt and put his hands under it. “I had hoped you would still be sleeping when I woke. I thought I might see if we could fit two in one bunk after all.”

“We can’t,” Kylo said. “Trust me.”

Hux raised a brow. “Have you tried it before?”

“No. I don’t bring people aboard.” Any liaison he had had was always planetside in his partner’s flat, or a hotel. The _Arrow_ , or the _Falcon_ , were off limits. “I just barely fit in the damned bunk, so trying to get both of us in it...no. Just not possible.”

“Very well,” Hux muttered.

Kylo squeezed his waist where he held him. “We can stay together on D’Qar, if you want. The lodgings are better.”

Hux’s fingers stilled on Kylo’s back. “Stay together openly?”

Kylo tamped down the nervous uncertainty, making himself say, “That’s right,” without adding a questioning qualifier.

“Yes, I’d like that,” said Hux.

Kylo barely kept himself from deflating with relief—and pleasure. “Yeah? Good.” He smiled crookedly, knowing he was probably giving himself away. _In over your head._

Hux didn’t seem to mind. His eyes were still on Kylo’s face, and he had resumed the lazy circles he had been drawing at the small of his back. “How long before we’re there?”

“About forty-five minutes,” Kylo said. Against Hux’s cheek: “However will we pass the time?”

Hux replied, “Show me how to suck you.”

“ _Stars_ , Hux,” Kylo groaned, “you’re going to kill me.” Taking him by the hips, Kylo began to steer him back toward the lounge. “Come on.”

Hux was a quick learner. Kylo, from his perch on the couch, his sleep pants around his ankles, only had to give a few instructions before Hux was taking charge. He was breathtaking with his lips and hand around Kylo’s cock, his sleep-mussed hair falling over his brow when he looked up at Kylo with hungry green eyes. Kylo managed to stop him before he came in his mouth, instead spilling over his lower belly as he finished himself with his left hand.

He could see the question on the tip of Hux’s tongue, but he said, “Not the first time. It takes practice.” Ignoring the cooling come on his skin, he pulled Hux to his feet, divested him of his trousers, and showed him how it was done. They were sitting side-by-side on the couch, both half-dressed and recovering, when the proximity alarm warned them they were a few minutes out from their destination.

Kylo forced himself to stand and set his clothes to rights. “We’d better get dressed. We’ll probably be hauled right off to see my mother, and it’s better not to show up in her office looking like we just woke up, and smelling like, well, what we just did.”

Hux nodded, businesslike. “Of course.” He had brought no changes of clothes when he’d stowed away—Kylo had forgiven him for it at his own peril—so he was stuck with what he had worn the day before.

“All those things we bought at Tyrish’s,” Kylo teased, “and you’ve not got anything with you.” Hux, downtrodden, apologized. Kylo said, “Just a joke. We’ll get you something clean planetside.”

Hux pulled a comb from his locker and set to taming his hair. Kylo ran a brush through his own, knowing his mother would get after him if he looked a mess when he got to the base. She already didn’t like his long hair, and he had Hux; he didn’t need to give her another reason to disapprove. He threw an extra pair of trousers, a shirt, and undergarments into his duffel bag and shouldered it.

They stopped in the galley on their way to the cockpit and grabbed ration bars for breakfast. Bar in one hand and other on the yoke, Kylo eased the _Arrow_ out of hyperspace. Verdant D’Qar came into view several thousand miles away. Unsurprisingly, as soon as they arrived, they were hailed over the comms.

“Vessel, identify yourself.”

“This is Kylo Ren, access code TW9-84U-7PF4, aboard the _Arrow_ ,” he said.

There was a pause, and then: “You’re cleared. Welcome back, Benny.”

Kylo frowned. One only person still dared call him that. “I should have known it was you, Dameron. Leia still have you out running the perimeter? I thought you’d be Strategic Something-or-other by now.”

“Ha, ha,” Poe Dameron, one of Kylo’s oldest friends, said dryly. “You know I belong in the air. But I’m thinking you need an escort planetside.”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “Sure.” In the viewport, a battered X-wing appeared forward of the _Arrow_ ’s nose, and waggled its wings to port and starboard. Kylo shut off the comms and said to Hux, “That’s Poe. We grew up to together, in a way. His parents knew mine, and we would always spend a few weeks together every year when we were kids. And I usually see him when I’m back here.” They had had a short romance when Ben was eighteen, and Leia had heartily approved, but both of them decided it wasn’t sustainable. They still exchanged holo messages every so often, and Kylo did like seeing him.

“I understand,” said Hux. “Perhaps I can meet him.”

“He’ll be landing with us,” Kylo said, “so you will.”

Freighter and fighter flew down through the atmosphere toward one of the larger continents on the planet. Kylo was asked for another set of access codes, which he gave. Poe greeted the woman on the other end of the comm, and she giggled as she replied to him. He had the heart of everyone in the Resistance.

Kylo set the _Arrow_ down on a landing pad near the X-wing hangar, while Poe chose a spot of open ground next to her. The engines of his X-wing were barely powered down before the canopy was opening and he was jumping out in a flash of bright orange flight suit. His helmet was off and tucked under his arm.

“Come on,” Kylo said to Hux. “Let’s get this over with.”

Poe was already standing at the foot of the loading door as it touched the ground with a hiss of decompression. He trotted up to meet Kylo, holding out his hand to shake. “Hey, Benny, good to see you home.”

“Good to be here,” Kylo said. When Poe’s eyes turned to Hux, he continued, “Poe, this is Hux, my copilot.”

“Well,” said Poe, offering his hand again, “I never thought I’d see the day. Nice to meet you, Hux.” He leaned in. “Don’t believe anything Ben tells you about me, unless it’s good, then believe all of it.”

Hux released his hand, eyeing him distrustfully. “I’ll try to remember that,” he said.

Poe flashed him a blinding smile—his trademark—and announced, “Leia’s probably waiting for you. You want me to take you two to her?”

“I know where she is,” Kylo said. She had an office in the command center, just off the main control room. However, he knew he wouldn’t have to go there. Looking up at the building, he spotted her coming out and walking purposefully toward the _Arrow_.

Leia Organa might have twice held the title of general, but she still had the bearing of royalty. She was indomitable despite her size—the top of her head barely reached the middle of Kylo’s chest—and even if she was dressed in practical fatigues and a vest, she moved with the unflagging confidence of the princess she had once been. Kylo barely noticed the gaggle of subordinates that trailed behind her. Hux, he saw, was watching her, too, face stony.

“Ben,” she said as she stopped in front of him.

As expected, he stooped to kiss her cheek. “Hello, Mother.”

While he was still within her reach, she patted his cheek. “You look like your father dressed you. Hasn’t that Gungan of yours convinced you to wear something better yet?”

Kylo held back his sigh. “Last time I was in the shop, I wasn’t there for me.” Leia cocked a brow, and he gestured to Hux. “Leia, Hux. He’s the one I told you about.”

Her hard gaze went immediately to Hux, who stood tall in the face of it. His legs were spread at parade rest and his hands were clasped behind his back. “General Organa,” he said.

“You’re called Hux?” she asked, pointed.

He remained steady and calm. “Yes. I believe you know of my father and my brother.”

Kylo recognized Leia’s pause for calculation and recalibration to process this knowledge and best use it to her advantage. She mirrored his pose, chin high, but looked to Kylo. “Why have you brought him here?”

“He works for me,” Kylo said. “I couldn’t leave my crew behind.” Not that he hadn’t tried.

“ _Works_ for you?” Leia asked. “You were supposed to give him supplies and let him go, not hire him.”

“I’m not paid,” said Hux, taking a step toward them. “I owe Kylo my life. I am working to pay my debt to him.”

Leia pursed her lips, the only public tell she had that she was discomfited. “A life debt? Ben, you should have known better than to allow this.”

Kylo was aware of that, but he was already in it up to his nose. “It’s important to him,” he said, perhaps quieter than he had intended. “So, it’s important to me.”

This time Leia’s shock was apparent. She glanced between Hux and Kylo, both of whom stood silently, Kylo waiting for her to admonish him. But instead she looked Hux over from boots to red hair, and said to him, “Ben is a good judge of character. If he’s willing to vouch for you, I’ll allow you here.”

“I do,” Kylo said.

The flash in Leia’s eyes told him all he needed to know: _We’ll talk about this later._ “Very well. Ben, you have the information?”

He nodded. The data chip was in his pocket. “We ran into trouble getting it.”

“I know,” said Leia. “The others are in a safe location until they can be extracted. They said you did a very thorough job of clearing an outpost. This was supposed to be _quiet_.”

“It was unavoidable,” Kylo said. “But I got us all out, didn’t I?”

Leia didn’t take issue with his tone, though she easily might have. He was trained to report to her as any of her other soldiers did, but occasionally he was still her teenage son being scolded for staying out too late and petulantly protesting.

“You did,” she said. “And you have the data on the Starkiller project. We need to analyze it right away.” A cutting glance at Hux. “What do you know about it?”

“Nothing,” Hux replied. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Colder: “But I was just a trooper. I am not privy to what my father and brother might know.”

Leia nodded. “There’s a story there I believe I’d like to hear, but not now.” To Kylo: “Turn over the data and we’ll look at it. Meet us in the briefing room in a half hour.” She gestured to one of her assistants, a blond-haired human girl with prominent cheekbones and a pert nose. “Layna will see you situated in quarters. A half hour, Ben.”

“Yes, Mother.”

The girl Layna came trotting forward as Leia marched off, and smiled. “Good morning. We have a pair of huts available for you in”—she scanned her datapad—“sector eight. If you’ll come with me.”

Hux fell into step with Kylo as they walked a pace behind Layna. Kylo said, “You did well with Leia. I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to her again, but—”

“I don’t mind,” Hux said, cutting him off. “She’s not as I expected.”

“And what was that?”

“Someone with more pomp. The First Order officers present themselves in full uniform and with a...retinue, especially General Hux, my brother Brendol. He’s named for my father.”

“She isn’t like that,” Kylo said. “Even when she was princess of Alderaan, she kept the spectacle to a minimum. Was that disappointing to you?”

“No,” said Hux. “She still has a commanding presence without the accoutrements.”

“She’d like that description,” Kylo said. “Given the chance, you two might actually like each other.”

Hux seemed dubious. “Perhaps.”

Kylo knew things would be icy between them, but in all likelihood, Hux wouldn’t have to interact with her much. She was busy, and Hux—even Kylo—were secondary concerns. “When I go to the briefing,” he said to Hux, “I’ll find you somewhere to go. There’s got to be someone to show you around.”

“I can stay in our lodgings until you’re ready for me.”

“No, I want you to see things, and stay with me, as much as you can. I’m not going to be with Leia all of the time.” Kylo didn’t take his hand, but he caught it for a moment to make sure he had Hux’s attention. “I’ll take care of you while we’re here. I promise you that.”

“I’ve gone into more hostile situations than this,” Hux said. “I’ll make do.”

The huts Layna led them to were just that: round-roofed structures with only one room for sleeping and a curtained-off toilet and sink. Showers were shared among the cluster of huts.

“Here we are,” she said. “You can choose which you’ll have, but these two are yours.”

“We just need the one,” said Kylo. If she took issue with that, she didn’t show it. “And we could use a set of clean clothes. Can you find something in his size?”

“Of course,” she said, typing something into her datapad. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Not right now.”

“Very good. I assume you know how to find the briefing room?”

“I do.” She went to turn away, but Kylo stopped her. “Is Poe Dameron going out on another perimeter run?”

She glanced once again at the datapad. “No, he’s groundside for today. Do you need him?”

If anyone would be a good guide around the compound for Hux, it would be Poe. And Kylo trusted him. “Would you mind asking him to come down here?” he asked Layna.

“Certainly,” she replied. “I’ll send him a message. Is that all?”

“It is, thanks.”

She bobbed her head, said “Very good,” and left them.

Kylo adjusted the strap of his duffel bag where it hung over his shoulder and tipped his head toward the door of the hut. To Hux he said, “After you.”

Hux swung the door open and entered, ducking slightly to keep from bumping his head on the lintel. The space inside was small, as Kylo remembered from the last time he had stayed here, but the bed would sleep two, if they stayed close. _That_ he wouldn’t mind. He dropped his bag next to far side of the bed, near the refresher—if it could be called that.

“It isn’t much,” he said, “but can you stand it?”

Hux sat at the edge of the bed. “It’s better than a bunk.”

Kylo went to him and nudged his knees apart until he could stand between his legs. He ran a hand over his hair. Hux looped his arms around Kylo’s waist, resting the forearms on his hips. He liked contact, Kylo was realizing.

“Nobody really touched you much before, did they?” Kylo asked, still petting his hair without disordering it.

“Outside of sparring, no,” Hux replied. “I didn’t allow it.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want them.” It was said gently, but with conviction.

Two fingers under Hux’s chin, Kylo raised his face. “But you wanted _me?”_

Hux moved his hands down to Kylo’s buttocks, taking a good hold. “I should think that’s obvious at this point.”

Kylo tugged the lobe of his ear. “Fair enough.” He held Hux by the back of the neck with his flesh-and-blood hand while he put the prosthetic on his shoulder. “You really sure you’re going to be okay here? Nobody should do anything to you, but still.”

“Any Resistance defector to the First Order would be interrogated and imprisoned,” Hux said. “That I’m even permitted to walk free isn’t something I expected.”

“ _Could_ someone even defect to the First Order?” said Kylo.

“No one ever has. I suspect they wouldn’t ever be wholly trusted, no matter how valuable the information or skills they brought.”

Kylo traced the edge of his shirt collar, where it met his neck. “I don’t know that you’d be trusted here, either. Tolerated, but not trusted.”

“I would do the same,” Hux said. “I wouldn’t let a defector go anywhere unaccompanied, and I wouldn’t give him a tour of the compound.” He raised his brows. “With your friend.”

“We’re not the First Order,” Kylo said. “But watch yourself if I’m not with you. Poe’s a good man, but the others might not be so welcoming.”

“I’ll do that.” He was still looking up at Kylo as Kylo bent down to kiss him. Kylo cupped his cheek as they went into it, lips and tongues slick. Hux was still holding him firmly by the buttocks, of which Kylo _definitely_ approved.

“Knock, knock.”

Breaking apart, they spotted Poe, out of his flight suit and in a leather jacket, leaning against the frame of the door. He was smiling conspiratorially, which Kylo knew meant he had been watching them for longer than he should have. Well, if the word hadn’t been out before, it was now that Poe had caught them in an outright embrace. Hux drew his arms away and Kylo stood tall again.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Poe said, “but Layna said you wanted to see me. I assume it wasn’t an invitation to the show.”

A quick glance at Hux revealed that he was flushed red, and he wasn’t looking at Poe.

“Watch yourself, Dameron,” Kylo warned.

Poe laughed, raising his open hands. “Okay, okay, message received. So, what can I do for you two?”

Kylo backed off enough to let Hux get to his feet (and he finally looked up to meet Poe’s eyes). “I have to meet Leia,” Kylo said, “but I was hoping you’d show Hux around a little. Maybe the firing ranges?”

“Oh, we’ve got a marksman on our hands, do we?” said Poe.

“I shoot,” Hux said, a considerable understatement.

“Well, we can certainly do that.” Poe rubbed his stubbled chin. “And maybe the hangar. Do you fly, Hux?”

“I’m learning.”

“Great!” Poe said. “Then I’ll take you to see my fighter. And you can meet BB-8.”

Hux gave him a mistrustful look. “What’s a BB-8?”

Poe winked. “Nothing bad, I promise. It’s a little droid. Flies with me. It’s waiting outside. Come on, Hux, and we’ll get down to this tour.” He nodded to Kylo. “See you around, Benny. I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece.” With an arm around Hux’s tense shoulders, he ushered him out of the hut. They were just past the threshold when Kylo heard a series of beeps in Binary.

He let them go, heading briefly to the sink to get a drink of water before he left for the briefing with Leia. The water was warm, but most everything on D’Qar was. He pushed his hair back from his face and gave himself a once-over in the crookedly hanging mirror. It would have to do.

There were five people in the briefing room when Kylo arrived: Grand Admiral Ackbar, General Cypress, Vice Admiral Holdo, Vice Admiral Jotis, and his mother. They were all gathered around a console display of a planet, or at least what looked like one. Kylo stepped up next to Leia; her hands were braced on the console control panel.

“This isn’t at all what we expected,” Ackbar was saying. “This is a weapon, not an offensive.”

“A weapon on an unprecedented scale,” said Jotis.

Kylo saw now that there was a structure built into the planet, a circular midpoint with two flanking rectangular indentations. “What is it?” he asked.

“We don’t know much,” Leia replied. “Only that it dwarfs the Death Star. But we don’t have any idea what it does.”

“But we can imagine,” Holdo said darkly. “If the Empire could destroy whole planets, then what can this monstrosity do?”

Kylo used the control panel to spin the image of the weapon. “Is this all we have? No data or plans?”

“Bare bones data,” Leia said. “But not enough to really understand it. It could be anything, and they could deploy it at any time.”

“We have to know more about this ‘Starkiller,’” said Cypress, “and soon.”

“Do we have other operatives inside the First Order?” Kylo asked. “An officer?”

Leia shook her head. “Only the ones you met, and they were techs and sanitation workers. We haven’t ever managed to infiltrate the military. Their officers all come from Imperial families.” She gave Kylo a hard look. “Like the Huxes.”

“I didn’t know anything about them when I found him,” Kylo said. “And he’s just a soldier. There’s more to it than that, but he isn’t high command.”

“The stormtrooper could be lying to you,” said Holdo. “And yet you seem to trust him. Why?”

Kylo frowned at her. “He isn’t, not about this.”

“Ben,” Leia began, more gently, “if this is a personal issue, don’t let that blind you to what is really happening.”

“That’s a diplomatic way to put it, Mother,” he growled. “Yes, I’m sleeping with him. Would I do that if I thought he was lying to me?”

Everyone in the room averted their eyes, leaving Leia and Kylo to hash this out between themselves. Leia’s expression hardened at the admission, and Kylo glowered.

“We don’t always have the best judgment in those kind of situations,” she said. “Trust me, I know.”

Kylo scoffed. “Hux isn’t Han. He has a sense of honor.”

Leia didn’t bother to argue that point; Han’s honor was dubious at best. “But he _is_ fresh out of the First Order. Life debt or no, he can’t have disowned them that easily.” She paused, but added, “Even for you.”

“Bring him in here and have him tell you, then,” Kylo said. “You can ask him yourself. He’s not afraid of you.”

“I never said that he was,” said Leia. “I think you have better taste than that.” Admiral Ackbar cleared his throat, and she reined herself in. “We’ll continue this discussion later. For now, we need to make a plan for what we’ll do with this Starkiller intelligence.”

“What we need is _more_ intelligence,” said General Cypress. “There has to be a way.”

“We already risked the lives of our moles to get this much,” Holdo said. “We don’t have another way in.”

Ackbar sighed. “We’ll have to come up with something, or be at the First Order’s mercy.”

“I’ll have anyone in the Unknown Regions keep their ears to the ground,” Leia said. “Until we have a solution, though, we go on as we have.” Murmurs of agreement. “Thank you all. You may go. Ben, you stay.”

Kylo turned his attention back to the Starkiller hologram, studying it as if he could discern its purpose from scrutiny alone, while the admirals and generals filed out. As the door closed behind them, Leia rounded on him.

“Did you really need to be so crass in a briefing?” she asked.

“I hardly was,” Kylo replied, dismissive. “And you brought it up. _I’m_ not going to lie, either.”

Leia pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not here to criticize your choice in partners, Ben, but this is a matter of security for the Resistance. He’s as blueblooded as they come in the Order. Brendol Hux is a diehard Imperial loyalist, and surely he raised his sons to be, too.”

“One of them, maybe,” said Kylo, “but not _this_ one. He’s been trying to kill him. He’s a bastard.”

“Of course Brendol is a bastard,” Leia snapped.

“Not what I meant. I mean...my Hux. He’s a bastard son. His father threw him to the wolves expecting him to die in the Stormtrooper Program.”

Leia flinched. “His own child?”

“Yes,” Kylo said. “He’d be dead if I hadn’t found him on Utel Gamma.”

“What really happened?” she asked.

Kylo leaned back against the console and started to tell her. She listened without interrupting, letting him get the whole story out—save for the details of Hux’s first offer of his body and how they had come together last night.

“You did a good thing,” Leia admitted when he was finished, “saving him like that. No wonder he swore a life debt. But you still should have turned him loose.”

“I know,” Kylo said, “but I couldn’t.”

Leia regarded him steadily, though with her mother’s eyes rather than through the lens of General Organa. “He hasn’t been with you very long. Are you sure it’s a good idea to get involved with him?” Brows raised. “I won’t deny that he’s attractive.”

Kylo rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know that, too. And the sex...well, that’s new.”

“Hm,” Leia said. “I would be a hypocrite if I faulted you for it, but I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“ _Mom_ ,” said Kylo, using the rare informal address. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”

She laughed. “I forget that sometimes.” Taking his hand, she said, “I’ll gut him like a fish if he plays you false.”

Kylo squeezed her fingers. “You said I’m a good judge of character. Have a little faith.”

When she held out her arm, he bent to embrace her. As he always did, he lifted her off her feet and swung her a little.

“I’m getting too old for that,” she said when he put her down again.

“Liar,” said Kylo. “You’re made of durasteel.”

She gave him the kind of grin she had picked up from Han. “Go on, then, get out of here. I’m sure your Hux is waiting.”

Kylo smiled back. “I left him with Poe.”

“You _didn’t_ ,” Leia said. “Oh, Ben. The old flame with the new one?”

“That ended _eleven years ago_ , Mother. Poe’s fine.”

She set her hands on her hips. “If he hasn’t already charmed Hux right out from under you.”

This time Kylo actually did scowl, even if he didn’t think Poe would actually stoop so low. “We’ll be in the mess for lunch?” he asked Leia.

“It’s where we all are. You’re both welcome to join us.”

All of the Resistance personnel who were currently active shared meals together in the large mess hall. They sat at common tables where rank or work didn’t matter. Leia often sat with riggers who maintained the X-wings, or comm operators and navigators. She knew her people, and they respected her for it.

“See you then,” said Kylo, and he left the briefing room.

Outside it was already sweltering and humid, though the skies were clear. Personnel were going about their tasks, from guiding transports down onto landing pads to running drills and maintaining droids. The Resistance compound was always busy; there were far more people here now than there had been when Leia had first established it six years ago. They had considerable firepower and a network of informants across the galaxy. For such a short time, it was a remarkable achievement.

Kylo didn’t know where Hux and Poe were at the moment, but he could guess that if they went to the firing range first, they were still there. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the back of the compound on the opposite side of the hangars to where the armories were. They had grown, too, to fit all of the weapons the Resistance was collecting for their eventual offensive against the First Order. At some point they knew their delicate armistice would end and it would be open war. Kylo hoped that by then the New Republic would have recognized the threat the Order posed, but so far they had taken no action on any of the information the Resistance had provided them.

The firing range was set into the thick foliage adjacent to the armory. There were almost always drills taking place, marksmen stationed in their individual firing lanes at practice. Now, though, there was a gaggle of people surrounding one long-range lane. When Kylo came up at the rear of the pack, they burst into applause.

“That’s some damn good shooting,” said a woman nearby. “He hasn’t missed _once_.”

“Well, he’s been training since he was a kid,” a man countered. “You just picked up a blaster rifle six months ago.”

The benefit of his height afforded Kylo a view of Hux at the center of the group, lying down on his belly at the firing line with a sniper’s blaster braced between his shoulder and a tactical tripod. There was a target set up at eight hundred meters, which Hux was scoping as he lined up for another shot. The first woman who had spoken lifted binoculars to her eyes to watch when he fired. The blaster was nearly silent save for the _zip_ of the bolt when it left the long barrel. Kylo couldn’t see where it hit the target, but he knew it had. More applause.

“I should have put credits on this,” Poe Dameron said from his place near the front of the group. “I could have made a killing, eh, Tether?”

The older man who stood next to him shook his head. “I never thought I’d see that level of accuracy.” To Hux, who was getting to his feet with the rifle in hand: “Do you think you could come by and give my team some pointers?”

“If I’m given leave to, then yes,” said Hux.

“He has it,” Kylo said, pushing his way through the crowd. They parted when they recognized him. “I’d bet our marksmen could learn a lot from him.” He winked at Hux. “I know I did.”

Hux handled the rifle with practiced ease. “If the others are as bad as him, we’ll need more than one session.”

Kylo gave an affronted huff. “You don’t have to tell them all _that_.”

“My apologies,” Hux said.

“You don’t mean that at all,” said Kylo.

Hux’s smile was aimed right at him. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh, I would have paid to see him school you, Benny,” Poe laughed. “Did he really embarrass himself, Hux?”

“No,” Hux said. “He did very well. For a novice.”

Kylo pulled a face, and Poe guffawed.

Hux passed the rifle back to Tether. “Thank you for letting me shoot.”

“It was my pleasure to see it,” Tether said. “Can I get the team together this afternoon for a lesson?” He glanced at Kylo, and Kylo looked to Hux.

“Certainly,” Hux replied.

Tether thanked him, and then hollered at the group, “All right, you voyeurs, get back to work!” They broke up, most returning to the armories, and leaving Poe, Hux, and Kylo standing in the firing lane.

“I guess I was right that you’d want to come here,” Kylo said to Hux. “Showed everyone up.”

“They could use the instruction,” said Hux. “They’re all green, and haven’t had enough training. I wouldn’t send any of them on a mission, but they told me they’ve been out before.”

Poe said, “You’ll help them shape up.”

Hux nodded. “I’ll try.”

Poe turned to Kylo. “So, you saw Leia and the big bosses. Didn’t take as long as I thought it would. We’ve only just started our tour. But I guess you’ll want to take over from here.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Ben’s better company than me, right, Hux?”

“I appreciate you taking the time to bring me here,” Hux said.

Poe grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure thing. I’ll let you two get to it, then. I’ll see you at lunch!” He jogged into the armory, just managing to dodge a loading droid carrying explosives.

“Did your meeting go well?” Hux asked.

Kylo latched onto his waist and pulled him in. “Mmhm. You had more fun than me, though.”

Hux laid his hands on Kylo’s chest. “I did, yes. Though the equipment they use is old. Kept well enough, but old. Nothing like the Order’s arsenal.”

“We know what we’re up against,” Kylo said, sober. “It’s not going to be an easy fight.”

“A Resistance victory is highly unlikely,” said Hux.

Kylo knew that, too. “Are you saying that because you want us to lose?”

Hux’s brows knit, and he glanced away. “I just know the odds, and they’re not in your favor. I can’t deny that there’s sense in how the Order wants to rule: efficiency, structure. Everyone knows their place and it makes the whole function. Things here are more lax.”

“That’s not always a bad thing,” Kylo said. “And everyone has a place here, too. We just don’t let it restrict us.”

“Yes, I see that. The Order is highly restrictive. We speak only to those in our chain of command, don’t step out of our roles. I’ve never gotten orders from anyone but my captain. I’ve never been to an officers’ deck. Speaking to a general, like your mother, would never have happened.”

“I would hate it there,” said Kylo. “Living under a regime like that would be unbearable for me. I’d die fighting it.”

Hux took the collar of Kylo’s shirt between his thumb and forefinger, contemplative. “I’ll be by your side. I have to be.”

Kylo touched his brow to Hux’s. “If it comes to war, I’ll release you from your debt. I won’t make you fight for a cause you don’t believe in.”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Hux said. “I’m lost in this.”

“I’m sorry,” Kylo murmured. He meant it, but it didn’t stop him from leaning in and kissing Hux’s mouth. Hux didn’t resist, and they stood there in the firing lane, arms around each other, anchoring themselves in the one thing they knew they both wanted. “Want to see some more of the compound?” Kylo asked when they broke for air.

“All right,” Hux replied.

 

* * *

 

They joined a team of mechanics for lunch, and mostly listened to them chatter about their work. One, a girl named Rose, stopped to ask Kylo about the _Arrow_  and he gave her the ship’s specifications. She was enraptured, and peppered him with questions. He answered them gladly, but was pleased to make an escape when he and Hux were finished eating. Tether had come to ask if Hux would give his squad a lesson at 1700 hours, which left quite a bit of empty time in the afternoon.

Layna appeared just as they were getting up to tell them that the requisitions officer had a change of clothes for Hux if he wanted it, so they went there to retrieve them. The officer was a narrow-faced man with a thin mustache, and he didn’t give Kylo a second look when he also asked for a toothbrush and a bottle of personal lubricant. Hux’s eyes, though, darkened. With clothes and supplies under their arms, they returned to their hut for some time alone after the crush of people in the mess. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Kylo fell back onto the bed. Hux sat more sedately next to him and picked up the bottle of lubricant.

“Is this for us?”

“Of course it is. I told you I have plans for you.” He tugged Hux by the sleeve until he gave Kylo his hand. Kylo kissed the inside of his wrist.

“You’ll have me, then?” Hux asked.

Kylo massaged his palm. “Not yet. We’ll get there, but not yet. It’s not something you rush into.”

“If I want it?”

“Then you’ll just have to wait for a while.” He smiled. “There are still things I want to show you beforehand.”

Hux moved onto the bed, lying down beside Kylo and laying one arm over his middle. Kylo held him absently by the wrist.

“I know about many things,” Hux said. “The troopers don’t hold back. You don’t have to treat me as if I’ve no knowledge of any of this.”

“Knowing and doing are different,” said Kylo.

Hux eyed him. “I’m not afraid.”

Kylo rapped chidingly on his collarbone. “ _I know_. You’re insistent, I’ll give you that. But let’s at least wait until we get back to the station. I want to do it right.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Hux said.

Kylo agreed, “Okay.” Shifting, he put his arm around Hux’s shoulders and drew him down to lie against his chest. “So, what did those troopers talk about?”

“Everything you might imagine. When you’re not training or on a mission, you find a great deal of time to get into each other’s bunks. Mixed barracks.”

“My uncle kept all the padawans separated,” Kylo said. “We had our own sleeping quarters. I didn’t even kiss a boy until I was seventeen and could get away from Han for a few hours.”

“Still younger than I was,” said Hux.

Kylo nestled him close. For him their kiss had been tentative at first, but then intensified as Kylo woke and went into it. “Was it worth the wait? And don’t tell me it was just to spare my ego.”

“It was,” Hux replied. “And the subsequent ones have been even better.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kylo teased. “Tell me more about how good I am.” He expected Hux to laugh, but instead he got the start of a straight-faced, perfectly serious answer.

“Your body is impressive, and your mouth—”

Kylo cut him off: “It’s okay. I didn’t really mean it.”

“Oh,” said Hux. “I didn’t realize.”

“Nice to know you like those things about me, though,” Kylo said, pressing a kiss to the top of Hux’s bent head. “I love that you want me.”

Hux slid his hand down Kylo’s stomach and onto his groin, palming his cock through his trousers. Kylo wasn’t hard, but it wouldn’t take long to get him there if Hux kept at that.

Kylo said, “I didn’t mean right now.”

“I’ll stop, if you’d rather that, but we’ve the whole afternoon…”

“You make a convincing argument,” said Kylo, pushing himself into Hux’s hand. “If you’re up for it, so I am.”

Hux sat up to look Kylo in the eye. He didn’t have to reply; the interest was there in his face. Kylo grinned and lunged up for a kiss. They grabbed for each other, going straight for the loosest clothing they could find and divesting themselves of it. Kylo tugged Hux’s shirt away and set his hands on his chest, thumbs just rubbing the nipples. He was more sensitive there than Kylo was, and Kylo took full advantage.

Hux was struggling with Kylo’s shirt buttons, unable to get them open fast enough. He stared them down contemptuously as he worked his way toward Kylo’s belt. When they finally gave way, he shoved the sides of the shirt away and bent to tongue the valley between Kylo’s pectorals. Kylo lay still for him, though he wanted to be out of his shirt completely. Hux took one nipple in his mouth, and Kylo told him, “Suck hard.” As Hux did, he groaned, hoping for a bruise.

When Hux pulled back, Kylo grabbed him around the waist and tossed him onto his back, allowing him to get free of his shirt. He went for Hux’s belt, opening the buckle with a click of metal and the snap of the leather tail. Hux lifted his hips for Kylo to pull his trousers down his legs.

“Kriff,” Kylo grumbled as he realized Hux was still wearing his boots. He set to unlacing them, though he shot a glance at Hux. “Touch yourself.”

Hux did, stroking his cock to bring himself to full hardness. Kylo loved the thatch of red hair between his legs, vibrant enough to draw the eye again and again. Forcing his gaze away, Kylo finished with the boots and dropped them onto the floor at the foot of the bed. Moments later, he had Hux’s trousers stripped away and he was brushing Hux’s hand away to take his cock into his mouth. Hux gripped his hair.

Kylo sucked him until he was making those noises Kylo liked so much, but not much longer than that. He had other ideas. When he finished with a lingering lick at the tip, he winked. Hux, flushed, seemed desirously bewildered. Kylo hurried to remove his own shoes and trousers, relieved when he lay back down bare. Hux closed his eyes as Kylo touched him, his hands on Kylo’s shoulders, the skin sticky in the heavy humidity. Kylo kissed his neck and nibbled his ear, eliciting the soft sound of his name. It sent an electric shock down his spine.

Hux kissed him light and teasing, pressing and withdrawing. Kylo, impatient, caught his lip between his teeth and sucked. When he let go, Hux’s mouth was red and swollen, and Kylo’s cock jumped knowing he had done that. They were lying close enough that they were touching, and Kylo shifted to push their hips together to provide some friction. Hux responded, rolling into him.

“We could come from just this,” Kylo said. “Well, I could.”

Hux continued to move against him. “Is that what you want to do?”

“Not quite,” Kylo replied. It was good, he wouldn’t deny that, but he knew something better. “Hand me the bottle.” Hux gave him the lubricant, and he poured some out onto his hand. Parting his thighs, he spread it between them. He hadn’t done this in years, and actually quite regretted that. The rest of the lubricant he smoothed over Hux’s cock.

“Did your troopers tell you about this?” Kylo asked as he started to turn onto his side, putting his back to Hux.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come here,” Kylo said, pulling Hux’s arm over his middle to draw him in. As Hux’s cock brushed his slick thighs, he opened them to slide it between them. “Does that feel good?”

Hux moved experimentally, slipping easily in the lubricant. Kylo kept his legs pressed tight together. “I’m to...do it like this?”

“Try it,” said Kylo. “If you don’t like it, we can do something else. But I really like it this way.”

“Does it feel good for you?”

“Yeah, and I can take care of myself while you do it.” He guided Hux’s hand to his cock, which he began to pump steadily. “Go on,” he encouraged. “Hold onto me.”

Hux molded his body to Kylo’s, beginning to thrust between his thighs. He was careful at first, but as he began to get a feel for it, he sped up. His breath was hot against the back of Kylo’s neck, and he was making little throaty sounds. Kylo reveled in their proximity, the soft dampness of Hux’s chest against his back. Hux’s hand was splayed on his chest, giving him the leverage to fuck Kylo’s thighs.

“How’s that?” Kylo asked.

“Good,” Hux replied. “It’s good.” Kylo clenched his hamstrings and quadriceps, and Hux groaned. “Like that. _Yes,_ like that.”

Kylo worked himself, too, a little slower than Hux was thrusting, pleasure pooling in his lower belly as skin met skin. He enjoyed penetration, whether receiving or giving, but there was something about this that was almost more intimate. It connected them, even without one being inside the other. His first experiences had been like this, and it still affected him. Hux was clinging to him in his raw need, enveloping him with his body and his scent. They were both offering themselves, and it united them.

“ _Hux_ ,” Kylo groaned. “I’ve wanted to feel you here since I saw you. Let you take what you need from me.” Hux was shaking behind him, gasping now. Kylo was getting close, too, and he bore down on Hux. “I’m right there. _Stars_ , I can’t wait. Tell me I can come.” He wasn’t sure he had ever sought permission before, even from the partners who tended to want it, but he hoped to hear it now.

“Yes, Kylo,” Hux said. “ _Yes._ ”

It put Kylo over the edge, and he was wracked with shivers as he hit his peak. Uncaring, he made a mess of the sheets, working himself through the orgasm while Hux stuttered out, “ _Ah!_ I’m _...there._ ” Kylo felt the warmth of his release between his thighs, and gave a short moan. He loved that heat, every time.

When Hux finally stilled, they were both sweat-damp and breathing hard. They held tight to each other still, though Kylo took Hux’s hand and entwined their fingers. Hux sighed behind him, squeezing. Carefully, Kylo parted his thighs, and Hux eased his cock free. Kylo was wet with lubricant and cooling come, but he wasn’t yet ready to get up. He brought Hux’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles.

“Was that okay?” he asked, even if he knew the answer.

Hux hummed. “It was. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“I learned that before anyone ever got inside me,” said Kylo. “It’s a favorite way of mine, actually.”

“You’ll let someone else…” Hux trailed off.

“Let someone fuck me?” Kylo said. “Sure. I like switching around, keeps things interesting. And it feels good.” He held Hux’s arm to him. “You know it’s never supposed to hurt, right?”

“If you’re prepared properly, then no,” Hux said. “Or so I was told.”

“When we get there, we’ll take our time and make it good for you.”

Hux landed a light kiss on Kylo’s shoulder. “I trust you will.”

They lay quietly for another few moments before Hux offered to get a towel to clean them up.

“I’ll get it,” said Kylo.

Hux moved away, allowing him to roll out of bed and wet a towel to clean his thighs. He brought it back to bed and gently wiped Hux’s cock, then he tossed the towel away and lay back down, one hand behind his head.

“So, you delivered the information to your mother?” Hux asked. “Was it worth what we faced on Kubindi?”

“It was, yeah,” Kylo replied. He waited for Hux to press further, but when he didn’t, Kylo continued anyway. “It was about a weapon called Starkiller. It looks like a planet in itself, but it’s more. We don’t have any plans, though, so we don’t have any idea what it actually does. We need more intelligence, but we don’t have any more operatives in the First Order to get it for us. We need a mole, and we don’t have one.”

Hux was silent for a beat, but then he said, “You could have one.”

Kylo cocked a brow, head turned to the side to see him. “What do you mean?”

“You could send me,” Hux said, moistening his lips. “Let me go back under the auspices of giving information about the Resistance. I could find out more about Starkiller.”

“No,” Kylo said, firmly and without hesitation. “You said you can’t go back. They’ll put you to death.”

“Not if I have something to offer,” said Hux.

Kylo repeated himself, decided, “No.” It was out of the question to put him in a situation where he’d be in that kind of danger. He had barely avoided execution just days before; Kylo couldn’t send him back knowing his father or the high command could have him killed for desertion.

“Is there a better solution?” Hux said. He turned, too, to face Kylo. “Let me do this for you. It will allow me to pay my life debt.”

He was sincere, and objectively it made sense, and seemed their only avenue, but Kylo didn’t want to let him go. He had him now, and he wouldn’t condemn him.

“I can’t send you back there knowing they could kill you,” Kylo said.

“That’s a risk I’ll take for the debt I owe you. Give me this. I can do it.”

“Why would you betray the Order like that?” Kylo asked. “You said before that you don’t know your loyalties anymore. I can’t ask you to do that.”

Hux raised a hand and laid his fingertips on Kylo’s cheek. “You can ask anything of me. I’m indebted.”

“Not this.”

“Kylo,” Hux said. “There’s no other way. I’ll do this.” More stridently: “For _you_.”

Kylo kissed him, hard and demanding, and Hux held him fast, pushing into his mouth and exchanging breath. He wanted to refuse him again, stars, he did, but if Hux was resolved, Kylo was sure he wouldn’t back down. They were pressed brow to brow as he said, “We’ll have to ask Leia.”

“Take me to her,” said Hux, “and I will.”

Kylo touched the soft, short hair at the base of Hux’s skull. “We can go now, but...I don’t like this.”

Hux smiled just slightly. “I know, but I’ll come back to you, if I can.”

“You _will_ ,” Kylo insisted. “You’re my copilot, and I’m already used to having you around. Don’t make me go back to flying alone.”

“Take 1H,” Hux said.

Kylo wrinkled his nose, but when he spoke it was soberly. “I’m not joking this time.”

Hux combed his fingers through Kylo’s hair. “I give you my word that if I can get back here, I will. I’m in no hurry to die.”

“You’d better not be,” Kylo said. He grabbed Hux by the waist and yanked him in, pinning his hand between their bodies at Hux’s groin. “Let Mom wait for another hour.”

Hux latched onto Kylo’s shoulders and grinned.

 

* * *

 

They found Leia in the command center two hours and one shower later, looking over some lieutenant’s holo displays. She was fully focused on it, but Kylo knew she had seen him come in. He and Hux stood by until she acknowledged them, the backs of their hands just touching at their sides. At last, she left the display and came to face them.

“Ben, Hux, what can I do for you?”

They had agreed that Kylo would do the talking to start, but that Hux would take over when it came to the details. He had laid out his plan to Kylo in bed, and Kylo had had to admit that there was at least a chance that they would succeed.

“Mother,” Kylo said, “can we talk alone?”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Come on, follow me.” She led them to her private office, where she had her own desk and console. “What is it?”

“We might have an idea of how to get more information on the Starkiller project,” said Kylo. “Well, Hux has an idea.”

Leia’s hard gaze went to him, and he began, “I propose that I infiltrate the First Order on your behalf. At present my status is unknown, though I am likely presumed dead. If I can get back to an Order operating center, I can provide a story of my capture and harrowing escape from the Resistance, with critical intelligence in hand. This would, of course, require a donation of verifiable information on your part. Anything faked will be found out immediately.

“I expect that with that information I will be taken to the Order’s officers and interrogated to provide it. If it’s valuable enough, I might be asked to deliver it in person to high command.” He stared Leia down unflinchingly. “From there I can find a way to get access to the star destroyer’s data banks. Whatever intelligence about Starkiller that is housed there, I can download it and transmit it back to you.”

“‘Find a way?’” Leia said. “You don’t have a plan for how to do that?”

“There are a significant number of variables that could affect the how of it,” Hux said. “I can address them in the moment.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable,” she said. “Risky, but acceptable. What next?”

“There will have to be someone else available to receive the data. A small ship just out of range of the destroyer’s sensors.”

“For transfer _and_ extraction,” Kylo said. Both Leia and Hux turned to him, one surprised, the other annoyed.

“You want to be extracted from the Order after this is finished?” Leia asked. “I might have thought you would want to stay.”

Hux clasped his hands behind his back, a tell for tension Kylo had noted. “I’d prefer to return to Kylo’s service.”

Leia’s expression softened, and she said, “I see. You have feelings for my son.”

It hadn’t been discussed in those exact terms, and Kylo knew there was some truth to it, but his chest clenched for wanting to hear it aloud.

“I do,” Hux said. A quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Despite my better judgement.”

Kylo forced himself not to laugh. Cheeky bastard.

Leia saw it, of course, and frowned. “You, too?” she asked him.

“Yes, Mother,” he replied.

“All right,” she said with resignation. “If this is actually possible, what kind of extraction are you going to need?”

“I believe I can access and jettison an escape pod from the destroyer that your ship could pick up,” said Hux. “It would have to be done quickly.”

“I’d do it,” Kylo said. “The _Arrow_ is fast and quiet. She and I can handle it.”

“Absolutely not,” Leia said. Unspoken: _I’m not risking you._

Kylo stood his ground. “Nobody else is better suited. I’m a smuggler. Let me get him out.”

“I told him I’d prefer he didn’t do it, either,” Hux said.

“And I told _you_ I’m going to,” Kylo snapped back, leveling a finger at him.

“All right, all right,” Leia said, intervening. “Say Ben does this. The _Arrow_ isn’t combat-ready. If even one TIE fighter is deployed, they could shoot you both out of the sky in an instant. Won’t someone notice there’s been a pod jettisoned?”

“Yes,” Hux replied. “Hence the speed of the pickup.”

Leia rubbed between her eyebrows. “This isn’t a good idea, any of it. It could end up getting both of you killed and compromising the Resistance.”

“But is this Starkiller intelligence not of the utmost importance?” Hux said. He stepped toward Leia. “I will do my best to get what you need. If I die in the process, you’ve lost nothing.”

Kylo, pained, grabbed his shoulder. “You won’t.” Hux covered his hand with his own, waiting for Leia to respond.

“What happens if you don’t get to a pod, or you don’t get the information?” she asked. “When will Ben know to leave?”

“We’ve decided on eight standard hours,” Hux replied, “and then he’s to return to Ryden.”

Kylo would stay as long as it took, and Hux knew it, but if he was imprisoned or killed, Kylo would eventually have to go. If not, he would be detected by the destroyer. He refused to consider that option overlong; Hux would get out safely.

“This is maybe the most risky plan I’ve ever considered,” Leia said, “but if you think you can pull it off, I’ll get you the information you need.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it happens,” Hux said. “It’s my life debt paid.” He took Kylo’s hand from his shoulder and, still keeping hold of him, lowered it to his side. Leia nodded, though Kylo didn’t know if that was mere acceptance or approval. He guessed it was the former; Leia wasn’t easy to win over.

“Let me get some people in here,” she said, “and we’ll discuss what information we can send with you without risking lives. Where do you plan to go to reenter the Order?”

“Back to Utel Gamma,” said Hux, “where Kylo found me. There’s no reason for me to have been taken off-planet. And I know where their operations are there.”

“I’ll take him first to the Ryden 2 station to prepare,” Kylo said. “From there we’ll go to Utel Gamma, and I’ll drop him off. We won’t be in contact until I get the data feed.” He hated this. “But then I’ll know when to pick him up.”

“Very well,” Leia said. “I’ll make the arrangements and you can leave tonight.”

“Not before my lesson with the sharpshooters,” Hux said. “I gave them my word.”

Leia gave Kylo a questioning look, but he just shrugged. She said, “Fine. Be back here at 1900 hours.”

Kylo ushered Hux back out into the command center and then out into the afternoon heat. “I guess we’re doing this,” he said.

“We are,” said Hux. “We’ll get what we need and come back unscathed.”

“Do you actually believe that?” Kylo asked.

Hux kissed him instead of replying, and Kylo let him.

 

* * *

 

It was dark by the time dinner in the mess was finished; the days on D’Qar were shorter than on most planets. Stars speckled the sky outside, there was so little light pollution from an almost otherwise uninhabited world. Kylo and Hux had sat together for the meal, this time with most of the marksmen Hux had worked with that afternoon. They had looked at him with reverence, especially the younger ones. Kylo didn’t miss that many of the Resistance fighters were no more than eighteen or twenty. There were veterans—some former New Republic pilots and technicians—but a good number were green and barely out of school on their homeworlds. He was an old man compared to them, though no less committed to the cause.

As he and Hux left the mess, he took his hand, saying, “I want to show you something.”

Hux came willingly along, allowing Kylo to tow him past most of the buildings to the edge of the installation where there were a number of mounds built to shield the operations from hostile fire. They climbed up over a retaining wall onto the short, soft grass, heading to the crest of the hill. Kylo sank down onto it, lying on his back with his face turned up to the starscape. He could even see the milky reaches of the galaxy like a silver-white veil over part of the sky. Hux, taking his cue, lay down beside him.

“I come up here to think sometimes,” Kylo said. “Away from the noise. I don’t always like to be around so many people all the time.”

“I think I’m coming to appreciate solitude,” said Hux. “Or at least limited company. It gives me room in a way I’d never experienced on a star destroyer. No space is wasted, and it’s close quarters. Not much unlike here.”

“You didn’t want to stay alone on the station, that’s for sure,” Kylo teased, bumping Hux’s boot with the toe of his own. “I can’t believe you just stowed away like it was nothing. I was so angry.”

Hux folded his hands over his stomach, pointedly keeping his gaze off of Kylo. “I’m not sorry. I know I did wrong, but I don’t regret it.”

“You got yourself into a mess by it,” said Kylo, “but we wouldn’t be here like this if you hadn’t made trouble for me. I don’t regret you, not for a minute.”

Hux did turn then, the prominent bones of his face making his cheeks look hollow in the scant light. “I took to you from the start. Not just because you were good to me and I hadn’t known that before, but because you fit me into your life as if it was simple and welcome.” He huffed a little breath, a minute smile on his lips. “And you were attractive.”

Kylo laughed. “Oh, do go on. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Further than we’ve already gone?” Hux asked, one brow raised suggestively.

“Maybe,” Kylo replied. “At least it’ll make me want to keep you around so I can hear it every day.”

Hux clucked, arch. “You’d get bored with it after a while, I’m sure. There are only so many compliments I can pay you. Though if you don’t mind repetition…”

Kylo wasn’t in the least bit serious, of course, but he winked at Hux, offering a toothy smile. “I’m satisfied just knowing you like the way I look, and how I treat you. You had me from the beginning, even when you were struggling like a caught fish to get out my arms when I first brought you to the station.”

“I don’t like being handled as if I’m delicate,” Hux grumbled. “I’m not.”

“No,” said Kylo. “I won’t make that mistake again. Tough trooper like you.” It was meant playfully, but Hux sobered, facing the sky again.

“If I return from this mission,” he said, “what will become of me?”

Kylo hadn’t had much time to think about it in the rush to make plans and tell Leia. He knew he wouldn’t let Hux go—out of necessity to protect the Resistance, but also for his own desire to have him nearby.

“You’ll work for me,” he said, “just like you told Leia you wanted to. I’ve got lots of work for us, above board and under it. You meant what you said, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Hux said. “I want to stay on, but what of the Resistance? If they won’t ever trust me, will they allow me to work with you?”

Kylo chewed his lower lip, considering. “They don’t really have a say in who I work with, but I guess that’s a fair question. The leadership may not like it. They’re careful in choosing their operatives when they take on the most sensitive jobs.”

“And you do that,” Hux said.

“Yeah.” Kylo sighed. “If I’m honest, there might be some things you can’t be a part of, elements of Resistance business I have to do alone. _I_ trust you, but Leia…”

Hux shifted beside him, though Kylo didn’t know if it was just to get more comfortable on the ground or because he was unsettled. “I understand that,” he said, “and I accept it. I’ll leave you to your work when it’s necessary.”

“Would you really want to know all of it?” Kylo asked. “You don’t have to be all-in with the Resistance. I’d never expect that of you. Although, you’re about to do something that’s pretty much as all-in as it gets.”

“I’m not doing it for them,” Hux said. “And it’s probably best I stay mostly removed.” After a pause, he added, “I won’t like the secrets. I don’t intend to keep anything from you, but you’ll have to keep the Resistance from me.”

Kylo reached across to him and set a hand on his thigh. “I’ll be as honest as I can. I want you to be able to trust me and know I’m not hiding the things that matter.”

Hux faced him again. “What things?”

“Anything between us,” Kylo said. “How I feel about you.”

“It hasn’t been very long,” said Hux slowly, carefully. “Is it foolish to think there could be real attachment?”

Kylo rolled onto his side to properly look at him, moving his hand up to cover Hux’s where they still rested over his belly. “I know, but it’s there. At least I think so. You’ve got me caught up in you.”

Hux took the hand Kylo set there and rubbed his thumb along its side. “Partnerships are forbidden in the ranks, and I never suffered for not having one. At least, I thought I didn’t.”

“Is that what you want with me?” Kylo asked. He squeezed Hux’s fingers. “Because it’s what I want with you.”

Hux’s reply was quiet but sure: “Yes.”

Kylo bent down to kiss him, and Hux came into it eagerly, lips parted in invitation. Kylo took it.

The shadows of X-wing fighters taking off blacked the stars out as they zipped over the hill when Kylo lay back again, catching his breath, fingers still entwined with Hux’s. They could be distantly heard, but the hill was too far from the launch bay for them to disturb the calm of the air on the grassy mound.

“When do we leave for Ryden?” Hux asked.

“Tomorrow most likely,” Kylo replied. “We’ve got to hammer out some of the details with Leia and the admirals, but we shouldn’t stay around here too long wasting time. It’s better to have done with this and get you back.”

Hux’s chest expanded as he drew in air. “I’m not afraid to face it, but there are a great deal of things that could go wrong.”

“I don’t really want to think about it,” Kylo admitted. “I’m sure you can get it done. I have to be.”

“I might have to face my brother,” said Hux. “I’ve only ever seen him in holovids. Once he addressed all the troopers, but I was five hundred meters away. I have no idea what kind of man he is.” He spat, “Or if he’s like my father.”

“He’s younger than you,” Kylo said, “but already a general?”

“Six years younger. I was sent away from Arkanis when he was born. He was raised to be high command, I’m sure. To rise even higher than my father did.”

Though he didn’t have siblings, Kylo had grown up alongside the other padawans and vied for Luke’s attention. He had been accustomed to being the sole focus of his nanny when he was little, and it was an adjustment to compete. There were times, he remembered, when Luke had been consumed with training the younger students—almost all of them at least three years Ben’s junior—and had left him to lonely hours of copying Jedi texts. He had a good hand for calligraphy, or at least he had before the accident, when he still wrote with his right hand. He had been envious of their comradery in those lessons, and it had only served to isolate him more.

“Were you ever jealous of him?” Kylo asked. “Your brother.”

“I barely knew he existed until he was made an officer,” Hux said. “And by then I was already twenty-four and too focused on my assignments to think about him. I loved my work. I wasn’t interested in command.”

“I think you would have been good at it,” said Kylo. “You’ve got the temperament.”

Hux shook his head. “No. I want a small team at most. I don’t need to send battalions to fight and die.”

“I understand that,” Kylo said. “I never intended to be a leader in the Resistance, either. Or a politician like Leia was before all of this. When I was at my uncle’s school we trained to be independent of politics and war. There are so few Jedi now that they don’t have the strength to sway governments as they used to in the Old Republic. And Luke wanted to stay above it.”

“But he fought in the Rebellion,” Hux said. “How is that staying out of conflict?”

“I asked the same thing when I was a kid. He said that individuals can choose to help a cause if they want to, but the Jedi as a whole won’t take sides.”

“Even against the First Order?”

Kylo shrugged. “They could stand against them, but Luke wouldn’t order them to. That’s the point. Everyone makes their own choice.”

Hux wet his lips, eyes on the sky. “There were once warriors on the dark side, the Sith. Will none of the masters turn to that if given the chance?”

“They were trained to master the light side,” Kylo said. “There are no teachers for the dark.” He paused, correcting himself, “Well, there’s one. Snoke. But I don’t know if he ever approached the other apprentices. I don’t think so.”

“He sought you because you were powerful,” said Hux.

“And because I have the darkness in my blood. Darth Vader’s grandson. He thought I might be drawn to it because of that.”

“But you weren’t.”

Kylo had been for a time, when he was young and curious about the power Snoke offered, when he was hungry to be better and faster than the other padawans. He managed to tell Hux that. “But I rejected him after all. And I’m glad for it.”

“Imagine if we were in the opposite situation,” Hux said. “If you had joined the Order and that was how I met you.” He rubbed his chin with his free hand. “Though I doubt I would have. As Snoke’s apprentice you would have been out of my reach.”

“What fun would that have been?” Kylo said, nuzzling Hux’s ear to smell the cleanness of his hair.

Hux chuckled. “None at all.”

They went back into each other’s arms, uncaring of the stains the grass was surely leaving on their clothes. Kylo had followed a strange path to get to this place in his life, but he wouldn’t undo it. He had a ship of his own, worked for his credits, served a cause he believed in, and now he had Hux. Under the stars of the thousand different worlds that had once separated them, they found each other.


	9. Hux

D’Qar had two moons, one small and rising early in the night—Hux had seen it as he and Kylo had walked back across the base to their hut in Sector 12—and the other massive and bright, hanging heavy in the sky even as the sun was coming up. It was still there now, visible outside the hut’s window, as Hux opened his eyes at dawn. He was lying facing the window, one arm tucked under the thin pillow and the other resting along his side over the sheet he and Kylo had slept under.

When they returned from the hillside, they had undressed one another unhurriedly, and Kylo spent long minutes just feeling Hux with hands and mouth, until Hux broke down and asked him—heatedly—to touch his cock. Kylo, looking utterly pleased with himself, swallowed him down and saw him to climax. He let Hux do the same to him, giving the occasional instruction as a guide. Hux had nearly choked when Kylo came on his tongue, but managed to take it all. Kylo had gotten up right away to get him a cup of water to wash the taste away. They had lain down then to sleep, Kylo curled around Hux, his nose against the back of Hux’s neck.

Hux lay awake for some time, unaccustomed to sharing a bed. Kylo’s heat was all around him and his breath was humid on his skin. He didn’t snore per se, but there was a light wheeze to his inhales that kept Hux on edge. It wasn’t all bad. He smelled good, like sex and the soap they had both used to wash their faces, and he held Hux to him with his left arm slung over his waist, fingers occasionally twitching as he dreamed. Hux was constrained and somewhat nervous at being held so solidly in place without an avenue to escape, but he knew there wasn’t a risk posed to him here. He hadn’t been treated as suspiciously by the Resistance as he had expected to be, even by Leia.

She hadn’t fit his expectations, either. She was royalty, a former senator, and now a leader of a thousand people, maybe more—and yet she dressed unobtrusively and walked among her army as if she was their equal rather than their commander. She spoke with authority, but not harshly, as the First Order’s officers often did. The holovids of his brother, General Hux, showed a vitriolic man with burning blue eyes and the spittle-spraying style of a zealous orator. He meant to intimidate both the Order’s enemies and its own soldiers. He commanded a respect built upon fear and awe—neither of which Leia employed.

She had an odd way of treating Kylo: a mix of mothering and ordering. She still called him Ben, which he clearly tolerated but didn’t appreciate, and while she was curt and businesslike with him at times, she could flip her demeanor completely to regard him as her potentially unruly son. She loved him, that much was plain, and he her. And from what Hux had seen of the way they had spoken in her office, she listened to him when he had something to offer—even if it was bringing a former stormtrooper to her to propose mission that would most likely get Hux killed.

“You have feelings for my son,” she had said.

There was no point in denying it, or playing the matter down. True they had only been together for a short time, but their bond had already begun to solidify by the time Hux kissed him for the second time, and the night before, on the hill, it had been fully and openly made. Excited, eager pleasure welled in him as he lay in bed watching a circle of orange morning light illuminate the spot where one of Kylo’s feet stuck out from under the sheet. He belonged to Hux now and, turning slowly, Hux took him in.

He was splayed out across his side of the bed, on his back with his hair over his eyes and his prosthetic arm hanging off of the mattress. The sheet covered only his hips and legs—save for the exposed foot—leaving his pale chest bare. Where Hux’s skin was fair, he had a pinkish coloring; Kylo, on the other hand, was alabaster. Tentatively, Hux reached for his belly, setting his hand there to see the contrast. Kylo didn’t stir, allowing Hux to study him further. His pulse point rose and fell with each beat of his heart, slow as he slept. He wrinkled his nose as a piece of hair tickled it. Hux gently brushed the hair away, and Kylo sighed.

“Thank you,” he murmured., startling Hux. “And good morning.”

Hux looked at him; his eyes were still closed. “I didn’t think you were awake,” Hux said, his fingers still resting on Kylo’s chest.

Kylo shifted, curling and uncurling his toes to stretch his feet. “Been staying still for a while. I didn’t want to wake _you_. Shouldn’t have been worried about that, I guess, if you were already up.”

Hux propped himself up on his elbow to get a better view of him. “I still can’t sleep these long hours. I don’t know if I’ll be able to.”

“That’s okay,” said Kylo, reaching blindly for him until he landed a hand on his shoulder. “You get up when you need to. I can always roll over and go back to sleep. Though I’d rather have you here with me.” He cracked his eyes open like a drowsy cat, and his smile was warm. “Was it all right? I didn’t kick you too much?”

“Not once,” Hux said. He didn’t bother to mention the rest; he assumed he would get used to being in Kylo’s bed, if he wanted him there. “Am I going to need my quarters on the station when we return?” he asked.

Kylo blinked, more alert. “You can _have_ them, but you don’t _need_ them.” He rubbed Hux’s upper arm. “You don’t have to bunk with me every night, though.”

Hux raised a brow. “Your bed is bigger than mine. Perhaps softer, too?”

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” Kylo said. Guiding Hux by the back of the neck, he drew him down to his lips. The angle was strange for the first few kisses, but when Kylo raised the sheet out of the way, Hux moved over him, sitting across his hips.

Hux bent down to kiss his chest, where there were a smattering of bruises from the night before. The one over his right nipple was particularly pronounced. His skin was musky from sleep, and Hux nuzzled the crook of his neck to where his hair fell to enjoy it. Kylo rubbed Hux’s thighs with his palms, letting Hux do what he wanted.

Hux took full advantage, lying down over top of him and pressing his hardening cock to Kylo’s. They had had each other as many times as possible over the past two days, and Hux had no intention of putting a stop to it. Now that he knew the pleasure of sex, he planned to discover as much as he could.

He worked his way to Kylo’s mouth again, kissing him deeply and eliciting a deep sound of approval as Kylo latched onto his waist. His hands encompassed a great deal of it, which Hux found he very much liked.

“This is a damn good way to wake up,” Kylo said between kisses. “You naked and on top of me.”

Hux nipped his lower lip. “You won’t get as much sleep if I did it as much as I wanted to.” Reaching between them, he wrapped his hand around Kylo’s erection, giving him a sure stroke.

Kylo breathed out, closing his eyes for a moment. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He looked back up at Hux. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Not exactly _anything_ ,” Hux said, thumbing the top of Kylo’s cock. “You still won’t take me properly.”

He got a stern look, albeit a little hazy with desire. “This isn’t the place,” Kylo said. “But...there is something we could do.”

“What?” asked Hux.

With intent, Kylo brushed his fingertips down the cleft of Hux’s ass to his entrance, pressing lightly. “I could give you my fingers. So you can get used to it.”

“I’ve taken my own before,” Hux said. “Two.”

Kylo gave a contemplative hum. “How long ago?”

Hux averted his eyes, but didn’t lie. “Years.”

“Then you should have a chance to learn again before you try to take anything bigger,” said Kylo. Hux gave his cock a squeeze, and he laughed. “Exactly.”

Hux _was_ somewhat daunted by Kylo’s size, but he still wanted to feel him inside, to offer everything he had to him. Starting with his fingers, though, was a fair compromise.

“All right,” Hux said. “Show me.”

Kylo shifted under him, trying to bounce him up and off of him. “Lie down,” he said. “We can do it on hands and knees, but I’d rather see your face.”

Hux preferred that, too. Swinging his leg over, he rolled onto his back, kicking the sheet away to leave him uncovered. He wasn’t exactly sure how Kylo wanted him posed, but he assumed he would have to be as open as possible. He parted his legs and tipped his hips up. Kylo seemed to approve; he wet his lips as he looked Hux over, his gaze lingering at the juncture of his thighs.

“You are _something_ ,” Kylo said as he shifted to kneel between Hux’s legs. He ran his hands up from his calves to his knees, tickling the ginger hair on them.

Hux opened ever-so-slightly more, and Kylo bent to kiss his inner thighs. He nudged Hux’s testicles with his nose, taking one and then the other into his mouth. Hux groaned at the heat and damp of his tongue. With his forefingers, Kylo pressed against Hux’s ass, teasing him, but not breaching him. Knowing he had to relax his muscles to take anything, Hux breathed out and tried to do so.

“That’s good,” Kylo said, rubbing his entrance as if to coax him further. “Hand me the bottle?”

Hux’s hand trembled as he grasped the lubricant on the bedside table and gave it to him. He watched, rapt, as Kylo squeezed some out onto his forefinger and spread it around with his thumb.

“Okay,” Kylo said. “Just breathe.”

Hux did as he was told, preparing himself for the intrusion. Kylo laid his finger against him for a few seconds before he began to push in. Instinctively, Hux's muscles clenched, but with an exhale, he released them to permit more of Kylo's finger inside. Kylo crooked it just at the first knuckle, working to loosen him more. Slowly and with care, he eased in up to the second knuckle. Hux already felt full from just that, but he knew there was a great deal more he would have to accustom himself to before the end.

“You all right?” Kylo asked.

Hux nodded, saying, “Yes. Go on.”

Kylo began to circle the finger, yet again encouraging Hux to stretch and permit him entry. The strangeness began to fade as he worked, and he was able press deeper, into the slick softness past the strong ring of muscle. Hux remembered the smoothness of it from his own experience, and wondered what Kylo was feeling.

Kylo checked in again: “How’s that? Doesn’t hurt?”

“No,” said Hux. “Is it all right for you?”

“Amazing,” Kylo said, smiling. “You feel great, and you’re doing so well.”

Hux warmed at the praise, glad to know he was satisfying the requirements for this act. His erection had waned some, but he reached down to stroke himself and it began to fill out again.

“That’s right,” Kylo said softly. “Keep touching. Go slowly.”

Hux obeyed, and as he moved his hand, Kylo began to draw his finger out and then push it back in. Hux cried a shocked “Ah!” as the tip hit the most sensitive part inside him.

Kylo grinned, expression dark with satisfaction. “Right there, huh? Okay.” He worried the spot with each pass of his finger, and Hux’s heart rate increased, his cock hard again in his grasp. It felt incredible, even better than he recalled from doing it himself.

Kylo poured more lubricant onto his fingers, touching Hux’s rim now with a second one. At his look—seeking permission—Hux said, “Do it.”

He stretched with mild discomfort as Kylo eased both fingers inside him. He worked at the muscles again until Hux relaxed into it; only then did he move deeper. Hux was holding his cock tight in his fist, making it ache, but when Kylo found his prostate again, he released the grip, pressing his thumb to the slit, where there was a spot of wetness. The feelings were mixed and strange, but there was pleasure there that was steadily building. Hux was so caught up in it that he barely noticed Kylo’s knuckles meeting his entrance, the fingers fully inside him.

“You look good,” Kylo murmured, rubbing his thigh with his free hand. “And feel even better.” He splayed his fingers slightly, opening Hux further. Hux panted, losing himself in the sensations. “I’m going to break when I’m inside you. You’re so hot, so tight. Like silk.” He punctuated it with a sure brush of his fingers.

The words and the touch struck Hux like a blow to the stomach, sending sparks of pleasure-pain throughout his body. He pressed his head back into the pillow. “Keep doing that,” he said. “Maybe...faster?”

“Whatever you want,” said Kylo. He began to fuck Hux with his fingers in earnest, making a wet sound that went straight to Hux’s cock.

The fullness was better now, Hux thought, intense in a way he hadn’t known such an intrusion could be. His belly and chest were rising and falling with each instroke of Kylo’s fingers and with the movement of Hux’s own hand on his cock. He was rising to it with startling speed, the pressure building in his gut and making his testicles draw up.

“What do you need?” Kylo asked. “Are you close?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hux replied, the single word punched out of him as he began to lose control. Looking down his body, he saw that Kylo was touching himself, too, staring at the place where his fingers disappeared inside of Hux. Just knowing that that held him so spellbound put Hux over the edge. He cried out as he came all over himself, spend hitting the divot of his collarbones. Kylo kept moving, kept pressing against his prostate while Hux jerked with each aftershock. He was on fire and nearly blind, his vision white at the edges.

“ _Hux!_ ” Kylo called as he peaked, his come spilling over Hux, too.

Hux watched it with keen interest, feeling the hot fluid across his lower belly, some even on his cock. Kylo’s eyes were tight shut, his mouth open and tongue just touching the slightly crooked row of his upper teeth. His hand was still moving over himself, though lazily, riding out the last of his orgasm. Hux stared at him openly, captivated by the flush from his chest to his cheeks and the supplicant position in which he knelt between Hux’s legs. He was powerful there, but also clearly vulnerable in his pleasure. Hux wanted to see that expression, the shape of his body in this moment, again and again.

Silence descended in the aftermath, both of them speechless and struggling to recover. Hux was mess from belly to chest, pinkened skin spattered with white. Kylo’s fingers were still inside him, and Hux flinched slightly as he removed them. Kylo wiped them on the corner of the sheet, using it, too, to clean Hux. Then he collapsed on the bed beside him, sighing.

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’m just going to lie here until I can move again. Maybe by this afternoon.”

Hux smiled, still lying on his back, though he brought his legs together and flexed his feet. He wasn’t overly sore, but he could definitely tell he had been penetrated. It would be even more intense later, when Kylo had him completely. Hux was a little glad it hadn’t been now. He wasn’t exactly prepared to walk into to General Leia Organa’s office to talk strategy right after her son had fucked him. He didn’t trust himself not to limp, and there was no way she wouldn’t know that immediately for what it was.

He didn’t assume that she had any illusions about what was going on between them, of course. Word had surely gotten back to her that they were sharing quarters, and she had asked them outright if they had feelings for each other. However, she didn’t need reminding that they were quite _that_ intimate. When it came to the other troopers, flinching as one sat down in the mess the next morning was fodder for good-natured teasing. Hux had watched it for years, but could never have imagined himself being the butt of their jokes. He was too proud for that. And he was too proud to face Kylo’s mother in that state as well.

“Are we expected at breakfast?” he asked, lifting one hand to put behind his head.

“Probably,” Kylo replied. “And I figure we’ll be briefed after that. Leia doesn’t waste time. She’ll already have found some intel for you to deliver to the First Order.”

In the night, when he couldn’t sleep, Hux had thought a great deal about what he was about to do. It was possible that as soon as he walked through the door into the operations center on Utel Gamma, he would be killed. If he hadn’t been presumed dead, but instead marked as a deserter, other troopers had license to kill him on the spot. They could scan his biometrics and report them back to the Order in a matter of seconds. His body would just be disposed of as neatly as possible: no funeral, no mourners, just efficient removal while a mark was made in his personnel file recording his date of death. That would put an end to any of the plans he had concocted.

It was a stretch that he would even manage it. He was supposed to extract the most highly guarded intelligence from a common data port without any particular slicing skills. He wouldn’t necessarily know the layout of the ship or—more likely—would be unable to get away from his escort. That was assuming they didn’t drug him to get the Resistance information and then execute him quietly, rather than making a spectacle of it.

Hux had witnessed several public executions over the years, some of troopers charged with cowardice. They had refused to fight when it came down to battle, and they were rounded up by their captain and imprisoned for a day before they were put to death. Hux had watched it all impassively, thinking only that it was neater than some of the other deaths he had witnessed. He had gone to sleep those nights without trouble, and had barely thought of those occasions ever again. Presented now with the prospect of it himself, he found he would have preferred to die unnoticed in the alley. Likely his father would be more comfortable with that, too—just making his problem disappear without fanfare. A trooper’s execution caused a stir that drew undue attention to a bastard boy who was meant to be forgotten.

The idea of this mission, in the end, was ludicrous. Hux had little confidence he could actually make it work, but he had managed to convince Kylo, and if Kylo agreed, then it was what Hux intended to do to pay his debt. But he didn’t want to rush headlong to his death, especially not now, when he had fallen into Kylo’s life and somehow won him and his affection. He didn’t want to leave him for the Order. He didn’t want to work for the Resistance, either, but his past was just that; he was ready to leave it behind if it meant Kylo was part of what was to come. At least he had had him for this time. It might have to be enough to sustain him for the rest of his numbered days.

“Good,” Hux said. “Then we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

Kylo groaned, turning toward Hux and slinging a heavy arm over his waist. “Don’t want to get up. Don’t want to put on clothes.”

Hux cupped the back of his head, slipping his fingers into his hair. “You can go naked. It would certainly be entertaining.”

“ _Huh_ ,” Kylo snorted. “If someone paid me enough, maybe, but not just because I’m comfortable and lazy.” He nuzzled Hux’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to stay in bed with me?”

“I’m hungry,” Hux said, twining strands of Kylo’s hair around his forefinger. “And we have work to do.”

“I know,” said Kylo. “But just give me five more minutes to hold you here?”

Hux smiled. “I’ll give you ten.”

 

* * *

 

Leia was in her office when they arrived at the command center. At her side was a taller woman with violet hair and wearing a green, featherlight dress that fluttered around her ankles even as she stood still. Her attention went immediately to Hux as he entered, and her eyes narrowed.

“Admiral Holdo,” said Kylo stiffly. “Good morning.”

She gave him only a passing glance before saying to Hux, “You’re the stormtrooper.” She cocked a brow. “Wearing Resistance-issue fatigues.”

Hux had left his soiled clothing behind in the hut and put on those Kylo had requisitioned for him. They were plain and serviceable, enough like his old uniforms that he felt comfortable in them. Despite Holdo’s tone, he didn’t take offense.

“I was in need of something to wear,” he said. “This was what was available. And yes, I am who you said. My name is Hux.”

“As I told you, Amilyn,” said Leia. “Good morning, Hux.”

He inclined his head with due deference. “General.” The corners of her mouth turned up, and he knew he had done right.

“I called Amilyn here,” she said, “to discuss the intelligence we’ll be forfeiting to the First Order. We decided it would be best to divulge something from the fleet, which can defend itself. It will be strategic locations of shipping routes for weapons.” To Hux: “Is that critical enough that it will be of use to you?”

“I believe so, yes,” he said. “Though it must be verifiable within a window of a few standard cycles. They’ll want to act on it quickly, but it won’t be immediate.”

“The ships will stay in position for three cycles,” said Holdo, clearly displeased. “I’m taking a considerable risk for this plan of yours, _Hux_. If I lose a single life, it’s on your head.”

“Admiral, I don’t think that’s called for,” Kylo said, lowly and thick with warning.

Hux waved him off. “I understand. Your personnel should be in little danger if the situation is handled properly. But I have no control over what the Order will do with the information. It’s outside the scope of my role in this.”

Holdo scowled deeply, but before she could speak Leia said, “We all understand the dangers of this enterprise. Hux is putting himself at risk, too, as is Ben. Nothing like this is gained without a certain measure of risk.”

“Yes, of course,” said Holdo, her concession blatantly forced.

“So,” Kylo began, “what else do we need to know about the fleet?”

Tapping a holoscreen, Holdo brought up the locations of several ships in the Inner Rim, all of which were stationary, as if awaiting orders.

“The Order will know if they just stay in one place that it’s a ruse,” Hux said.

“We’re aware of that,” Holdo snapped, “so that’s why they’ll be taking the prescribed route starting tomorrow, standard time, before you both make your run. All four of them are heavily armed and prepared to hold off an offensive.”

Hux pursed his lips. He had said to Kylo yesterday that the Resistance was seriously outgunned as compared to the First Order. “How large an offensive?” he asked. “Are you prepared to take on a battlecruiser, or a large frigate?”

“Would they send that much firepower for a few weapons transports?” Leia asked.

“They won’t accept information that doesn’t merit it,” Hux replied. “Unless this is critical intelligence, it won’t be worth their time.”

She rubbed her brow, turning to Holdo. “Should we give them more?”

“Not if we can help it,” Holdo said. She gave Hux an earnest, questioning look. “How much do you really think we’ll need?”

Hux said, “Where are the transports bound? Is there a base you can afford to reveal?” He could feel the tension in the room build, even from Kylo. Holdo looked to Leia and Leia at the display. Reaching out, she tapped at the keyboard. A moon nearby one of the ships appeared, a point on its surface flashing.

“This is the Errod shipping center,” she said. “A hub for supplies and recruits.”

“Leia,” said Holdo stridently, “it’s barely armed.”

She rubbed her chin, eyes downcast. “We can evacuate right away. Leave a skeleton crew there to keep the lights on and make it look like it’s still operating.”

“What happens when the Order comes at it with all they’ve got?” Kylo asked.

“They get away if they can,” said Leia.

Hux was familiar with sacrifices for the greater good, and said, “Will they be given orders to stay or will they be volunteers?”

“Everyone here is a volunteer,” Holdo said.

Leia spoke quietly: “No one will be ordered. They can choose to stay or go. If everyone goes, we’ll find another way to man the center.”

“But, in essence,” said Hux, “you’re giving them a suicide mission.” He cast a glance at Holdo. “I will accept responsibility for that, if I must.”

Kylo took a step toward him. “It’s not your fault. We wouldn’t have this opportunity without you. Anyone who elects to stay there is doing it because they believe we’re doing the right thing in getting the Starkiller plans. They know what they’re getting themselves into, just like you do. Just like I do.”

Hux laid a hand on his chest, pressing him back. “Kylo, it’s all right. We’re staking lives on this.”

“I know,” Kylo said, taking the hand and holding it to him. “ _Yours_.”

Hux could feel Holdo and Leia watching them, the admiral more so. It wasn’t open disapproval, but there was concern there. He assumed she knew about their association, since Leia didn’t seem like the type of conceal any pertinent information from her commanders. Hux didn’t look at her, though; he kept his focus on Kylo, feeling the beat of his heart under his fingers.

“I didn’t expect others to be involved,” Hux said. “This is my life debt, my task.”

Leia approached them in measured steps, stopping just a pace from both of them and looking up to see their faces. “This is a Resistance operation now. You are a part of that, Hux, and so will they be. We work together. It’s never been just you.”

She meant it, and he blinked down at her. “I’m doing this for Kylo, not for the Resistance. You should know that.”

“I do,” she said, that barely there smile appearing again. “And I appreciate you being frank about that. But you are doing a favor for one of my operatives and if you need the support of the Resistance, you’ll have it.”

Hux gave a curt nod, pulling his hand from Kylo’s grasp. He offered it to Leia. “On that,” he said, “we can agree.”

“Well, then,” Holdo said, more loudly than was strictly necessary, “we’ll be sending him with the Errod information and the locations of the ships. I’ll contact the fleet captains immediately. Leia, will you see to the shipping center?”

“I will,” Leia replied. “I’ll send the message right away. Hux, how do you want us to transfer the information? A chip?”

“No,” Hux said. “I’ll memorize it. They can take a chip away from me, but they’ll need to keep me alive to verify the information before they can put together an operation.” He wet his lips. “And I’d like to give them all the possible reasons to keep me alive.” He said it with enough levity that he hoped Kylo might laugh, but he was stone-faced, eyes on the Errod display.

“Understood,” said Leia. She gestured to her console. “You can look over the files here. Take as long as you need.”

Hux had a keen memory for figures; it likely wouldn’t take him any longer than ten minutes to cement the coordinates and flight paths in his mind. But he would take his time about it, just to be safe.

“Thank you, General,” he said. “I’ll keep my eyes on my work, as well.”

This time she actually chuckled. “The rest of my files are triple encrypted and locked down. You couldn’t see them even if you were the best slicer in the First Order.”

He offered a small smile. “And I’m not. Just a sharpshooter.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Tether had quite a few things to say about your lesson with his unit yesterday. Your expertise is appreciated.” There was mischief in the flash of her eyes. “Did you do that as part of your life debt to my son, too?”

“No,” said Hux, amused. “I did it because I haven’t shown off for anyone other than him in quite some time. Vanity isn’t forbidden in the Order.”

Holdo scoffed, but Leia and Kylo laughed.

Kylo said, “I’m going to have to find a way to put a blaster rifle in your hands on a regular basis, or you’re going to sulk”

“There are shooting competitions on Ryden, aren’t there?” Hux asked. “That will satisfy my needs, I’m sure.”

“You’re also welcome here,” said Leia. “To teach our recruits.”

Hux regarded her steadily, largely concealing his surprise. Part of him wanted to accept that welcome, but he still believed what he had told Kylo: that it would be better if he remained outside of the Resistance.

“I appreciate the offer, General,” he said, “but I’ll leave this to Kylo in the future. Should I survive this mission, I’ll be in his employ only.”

Leia nodded once, slowly. She stepped away and ushered Holdo toward the door. “We’ll be outside if you need anything. Ben, why don’t you come along and leave Hux to this?”

Kylo shot Hux a questioning look, and Hux said, “Go on. I won’t be long.”

“Hold you to it,” said Kylo as he backed away and followed Leia and Holdo out into the command center proper, shutting the door behind him.

Hux went right away to the console and sat down to sift through the information. He began with the base, memorizing latitude and longitude on Errod, before moving to the shipping routes. He would divulge those first, to whet the Order’s appetite, but would only tell high command about the base. It seemed unlikely that a mere trooper would be seen by anyone above the rank of captain, but he had leverage that he planned to use to make himself valuable. Perhaps he would even meet his brother, at last.

When he was finished, he powered down the console and left the room. Leia and Holdo were gone, leaving only Kylo standing out of way of the activity, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his trousers. He seemed out of place among the smartly dressed lieutenants bustling around the center, even a little uncomfortable. He had pulled his hair back into a half-tail, which Hux found endearing. He looked younger, unguarded in his place in a removed corner. Hux crossed the room to him, and as Kylo’s gaze alighted on him, he brightened.

“You get everything you need?” Kylo asked.

“Yes,” Hux replied, tapping his temple. “Are we expected to stay longer here?”

“No. We should get underway as soon as we can.” He touched Hux’s sleeve fondly. “I know we won’t have long, but I want to get you back to the station.”

Hux smiled, very much in agreement. “I’d like that, too. Should we retrieve our things?”

It took only a few minutes to gather Kylo’s duffel. He put Hux’s extra clothing into it and slung it over his shoulder. They didn’t talk about the mission as they walked back toward the landing pads where the _Arrow_ was waiting; in fact, they said little at all. Poe and his rotund droid were waiting when they arrived, in conversation with Leia. All three of them turned as Kylo and Hux approached.

“Well, Hux,” said Poe cheerfully, “it was good to meet you. You take care of Ben, all right? He tends to get into scrapes.” Kylo made a face at him, and Poe winked. “Be careful out there, Benny.”

Kylo said, shaking his hand, “You watch out for yourself in the sky, too.” The droid whistled. “You, too, BB-8.” He stooped down to embrace Leia. “I’ll send a report when we’re back safely.”

“I trust you will,” she said, patting his cheek. “Be careful”—a nod to Hux—“both of you.”

Kylo gave them a last wave, and Hux fell into step with him as they ascended the loading ramp into the _Arrow_. They went straight to the cockpit and fired up the engines, Kylo wasting no time in getting them off the ground. The Resistance’s central base grew smaller and smaller in the viewport until it was out of sight completely, swallowed up by the thick cloud cover in the lower atmosphere. Kylo guided them smoothly out of orbit and into hyperspace. Hux watched him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to speak.

He let his head fall back against his seat, turning to Hux with a lazy smile. “Alone again,” he said. “We’ve got about three hours of flight time. You want a drink?”

“It’s barely past ten hundred hours,” said Hux.

“Juice then,” Kylo suggested. “Or you can just come sit with me for a while. I guess I don’t really need an excuse to get you into the lounge.”

Hux said, “You don’t, no. But I’ll share a bottle of juice with you.” He got up and slipped between their chairs, heading aft toward the galley. He chose a bottle of pinkish juice.

Kylo flopped down on the lounge seat and gestured for Hux to sit between his spread legs, against his chest. Hux tucked himself into the proffered space and opened the bottle. He took a sip before passing it to Kylo.

“May I ask you something about your mother?” Hux said.

“Sure,” Kylo replied, his flesh-and-blood arm settled around Hux’s waist.

“You said you left home at six to study with your uncle, but did you spend a great deal of time with her before you went away?”

“A fair amount, but she was a senator and busy building the New Republic. I saw more of my nanny than I did of her, or my father.”

Hux asked, “Was that all right?”

Kylo shrugged from behind him. “I never knew anything different. I thought it was how everyone’s family was. But Leia would spend time with me when she had it. I remember a few trips to the public gardens, or her playing with me on the floor of my nursery. One thing she _did_ do was get me all the best toys.” He laughed. “I never wanted for model ships or figures of every species I could think of.”

Hux struggled to picture the hard-around-the-edges General Organa on the toy-covered floor of a young boy’s bedroom, making the noises the speeders made as they mock-flew over the carpet. Small Ben’s elated laughter when they crashed with his, Leia’s fond regard for her only child.

“I never knew my mother,” said Hux. “As soon as I was born, my father sent her away and took me into his household. Maratelle, his wife, wanted nothing to do with me, so a nanny was hired to see to my care.” Her name had been Rella and she had had a kind voice. “She was good to me, but always careful never to coddle. My father wouldn’t have tolerated that. Was yours the same way?”

Kylo handed him the juice again. “I should have said ‘nannies’ because I went through one every six months or so. I never failed to scare them off. I didn’t have very good control of the Force when I was little, and when I cried or threw a tantrum, things would break or fly around the room.”

“Is that common with Force-sensitives?” Hux asked, never having seen or thought of one as a child.

“Not really,” Kylo replied. “Most powers don’t manifest until you’re older. I was...an exception.”

He must have been a shaggy-haired boy, with ears sticking out and a crooked smile. It was hard to see him as anything but the broad man he was, but he had likely been a robust child, where Hux had been smaller and slighter—much to his father’s displeasure. Kylo had a mix of his father’s looks and his mother’s, beautiful in a different way than both.

“I’ve heard your mother has the Force, too,” Hux said. “Could she not teach you to control yourself?”

Kylo rubbed Hux’s belly idly, his fingertips worrying the buttons of his shirt. “She wasn’t trained like Luke was. Even to her I was a bit frightening.”

That gave Hux pause. He had been ignored by Maratelle and only seen by his father once a day, but they had been far from _afraid_ of him. Kylo’s power must have been staggering.

“That had to be difficult,” said Hux, “knowing you were so different.”

“I was a lonely kid,” Kylo said. “Even when I was studying with the other padawans. I got used to it, though, as I got older.” He set his chin on Hux’s shoulder. “But I don’t mind company, now.”

Hux tipped his head to acknowledge the touch. “Will you show me more of the Force sometime? More of what you can do?”

“There’s not really much to show. A lot of it is just feeling, sensing the connections between all things. Aside from the combat tactics and the games I showed you before. But…” He took the half-empty juice bottle from Hux’s hands. He was perfectly still, but Hux felt a tug at the buttons of his shirt. One popped free, and then another, and another.

Hux chuckled. “That’s a fine trick. Could you take it all off with just your mind?”

“I’ve never tried,” Kylo said, “but I probably could. In the mood to test it out?”

“Maybe later,” Hux replied. “It’s good just to sit here.”

Kylo nestled him close, saying, “Yeah, it is. Tell me a little about Arkanis? What you can remember.”

It was very little, though there were a few distinct memories. “I remember the rain, and the sound it made on the transparisteel of the conservatory. Consistent pattering and rivulets that spilled down the sides of the windows. I used to lie on my back and just watch the blurry landscape outside.”

Those were the few times during the day that Rella left him, and he always seemed to find his way back to the conservatory, where he had just lain on the tiled floor and let his mind wander. He hadn’t thought much of leaving the planet then, though his father often spoke of his time aboard star destroyers in the service of the Empire. It seemed so abstract to a boy of five that Hux never bothered to give it real consideration. He hadn’t known then that he would spend most of his life in space.

“You sound like you were a more thoughtful kid than I was,” said Kylo. “I wouldn’t have been able to sit still long enough to hear the rain.”

Hux tapped the back of Kylo’s hand with his fingertips. “I doubt you would be able to _now_.”

Kylo huffed. “If you wanted me to listen, I would. Is your house still there, on Arkanis?”

“I assume so. I haven’t been back to the planet since I was sent away.” He had never felt the compulsion to go back to a life that he barely recalled.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it someday,” Kylo said. “Arkanis. We could go there, if you wanted to.”

Hux considered. “Maybe. Let’s get through what’s to come first.”

Kylo shifted, bringing his legs over Hux’s as if to hold him there. “We’ll go when you get back. Just spend a few days there getting rained on”—he kissed Hux’s neck—“and keeping each other warm.”

“All right,” Hux said. “We can do that. I’ve heard Scaparus Port isn’t so bad to visit. Can you swim?”

“Sure,” said Kylo. “It’s been a while, but yeah.”

Hux liked the thought of watching him slip through the water of one of Arkanis’s many lakes, his long, white limbs appearing and disappearing in the murky green. They could swim naked, unseen by anyone for miles.

Hux said, “I like the quiet of being underwater. It’s like deep space, but you can feel the pressure around you, reminding you that you’re not in a vacuum. There’s life all around you: fish, plants, insects. You can’t hear it, but you can sense it.”

“That’s like the Force,” Kylo said quietly. “It’s a hum around you all the time, connecting you to the nearest life. If you concentrate hard enough, it envelops you.”

“Can you feel me in it?” Hux asked.

Kylo nuzzled the nape of his neck. “Of course. When you touch someone, you can sense the way they’re woven into the Force, how it flows through them. You’re a strong conduit. Unable to manipulate it, but your presence is strong. If I paid enough attention, I could probably tell exactly where you are in the ship at any given moment, even tell how hard your heart was beating.”

For an operative who prided himself on stealth, that was disconcerting, but Hux had never faced a Force-sensitive enemy before.

“Yet you didn’t sense it when I was stowed away,” Hux said.

“I wasn’t trying to find you. I thought you were on the station.” He laid his prosthetic hand on Hux’s wrist. “It takes a lot of concentration to track someone. Unless you’re bound.”

Hux slid his fingers between Kylo’s silver ones despite knowing he could only feel the resistance of an object against the tactile sensors. “Bound how?”

Kylo seemed to hesitate, but then replied, “There’s a kind of connection two Force-sensitives can form, called a Force bond. It heightens their awareness of each other and allows the flow of emotions and even full thoughts across huge distances. It used to be common between Jedi masters and their apprentices. They fought and worked better together if they were bonded.”

“Is it permanent?” Hux asked.

“Not necessarily,” Kylo said, “but breaking it is incredibly painful. Leaves a hole in both partners that won’t ever heal. It can wane over time if they’re apart, but never really goes away.”

Hux paused to mull over such an indelible connection to someone else. He valued his privacy to a degree that he feared making himself and his innermost thoughts so accessible.

“It’s only between Force-sensitives, then?” he said. “Since both have to be connected to the Force?”

“I’ve only ever heard of it like that,” said Kylo, “but everyone has some manner of connection to the Force. Maybe the bond could be made between one Force-user and a Force-null. I wouldn’t know.”

“Who would?”

“Maybe Luke. Maybe it’s in the ancient texts. Maybe nobody’s ever tried it.”

“I see.”

Kylo squeezed his hand in his metal one, though not too tightly. “I scares me a little, to be honest. Being _that_ open to someone else. You can still hide some things, but according to Rey, it’s not really worth it.”

Hux said, “Rey? Skywalker’s apprentice?”

“Yeah,” said Kylo. “They have a bond. A strong one. They’re uncanny when they’re training, and sometimes in conversation. They just seem to have a discussion between themselves without a word. It’s uncomfortable at times.”

Hux hummed. “I can imagine. So you’ve never—”

Kylo cut him off: “No.”

They were quiet for a beat, Hux finishing the juice, and then he said, “I was meant to be an officer in my father’s image and you a Jedi in your uncle’s. And yet we’re far from that. Do you ever wish it was different?”

“No,” Kylo replied. “Especially not right now.”

Hux smiled. “Especially not right now.” He leaned back into Kylo and closed his eyes, glad for all the missteps that had brought him here.

 

* * *

 

1H was waiting in the living quarters when they returned to the Ryden 2 station. “Master Kylo, Master Hux,” it said happily, “you’ve returned. I trust your journey was a successful one.” It regarded Hux with its optical inputs. “Though I was under the impression Master Hux would be staying aboard.”

“Plans changed,” Hux said tersely.

Kylo put an arm around his waist, pulling him in for a kiss. “A lot of things changed.”

“Oh!” the little medical droid exclaimed. “The two of you are involved. I will offer my congratulations and approval.”

It was ridiculous, but Hux found himself averting his eyes with a measure of shyness. He didn’t move away from Kylo, though. Kylo was grinning, kneading Hux’s side where he held him.

“Do you need any medical attention, Master Hux?” 1H asked. “Is your wound healing well?”

Hux hadn’t thought of it in the days they had been gone. “It’s fine,” he said. “Though you can look at it if you’d like to.” He expected it wanted to be useful.

“Of course, Master Hux,” it said, rolling toward the residences.

Kylo let go of Hux to allow him to follow the droid into his quarters. The doors of his wardrobe stood open, and he was glad to see the array of clothing awaiting him there. The Resistance fatigues would be folded and put away posthaste. He stripped out of the shirt first, tossing it on the bed before he sat and lifted his arm to offer the wound for 1H to appraise. It was barely more than a pinkish circle, which was quickly turning white.

“Oh, this is very good, Master Hux,” 1H said, its small instruments prodding at Hux’s tender flesh. “It’s doing well. There’s no need to apply anything else to it. It hasn’t been hurting?”

“No,” said Hux. “You did exceptionally with it.”

The droid _tsked_ dismissively. “Just doing what I’m programmed to do. It was really my pleasure.”

Hux teased, “Perhaps I should go out and get another just to make sure you’re kept busy.”

“Oh, _never that_ ,” 1H said, affronted. “I can find ways to occupy myself. Would you care for a complete physical with bloodwork?” He proposed it as if it was a pleasant dinner invitation, and Hux almost laughed.

However, he replied, with the utmost gravity, “I think I’m due for one, yes.”

He sat through a series of tests, including having his blood drawn and run through 1H’s inner workings. At the droid’s inquiry, Hux explained how he had come to join Kylo’s mission, and was duly scolded for stowing away.

“But you met Mistress Leia,” 1H said. “She’s a formidable person. She purchased me for Master Kylo when he was young. Their shared suite in the hospital was my first residence after I was manufactured.”

“She’s formidable indeed,” said Hux. “I’m glad to have met her. She was very different than she had been described to me, or as I had read about her. And I don’t think she exactly approves of me and Kylo.”

“Together, you mean?” the droid asked. “I can’t see why not. It’s more than apparent that you give Master Kylo joy. He’s been in good spirits since he brought you here.” Its tone was knowing. “And you are glad for him, too.”

Hux nodded.

“Then I’m sure Mistress Leia will accept it in time.” The testing apparatus beeped, and 1H declared, “You are in perfect health, Master Hux. Nothing of concern in any of the screenings.”

“Thank you,” Hux said. “Is there anything else?”

1H shook its round head. “No, no. However, if you need me, I am at your disposal.” It made a kind of bow and wheeled itself out, humming happily.

Hux sat back on his hands, taking in the room around him. It felt good to be back on the station, which had already begun to feel familiar. He could see himself spending a great deal of time here, with 1H and Kylo for company. However, he would be leaving tomorrow morning and maybe not returning. That was a cold reality that snaked under his skin and made the comfort of his place here seem hollow.

His face was turned up toward the durasteel overhead when he heard a knock. Kylo stood at the door, leaning on the jamb.

“Everything okay?” Kylo asked.

“Quite,” Hux replied, only half a lie.

Kylo smiled. “Will you come here? I have something to show you.”

Rising, Hux followed him into his quarters. Ryden 2 was clearly visible outside the large viewport, and Kylo’s bed took up a significant part of the adjacent bulkhead. It was neatly made, and one of the chests in which Hux’s clothes had come from Tyrish’s was on the floor beside it.

“What’s this?” he inquired.

“Something I thought you might need,” said Kylo. He opened the chest to reveal Hux’s sniper’s armor, cleaned and plassteel plates gleaming.

Hux had thought it gone. He said, surprised, “You kept it?”

“I figured you might want it someday,” Kylo replied, picking up a shoulder plate. “I still have some things from my past that I hold onto. Maybe you’d want that, too.” He shrugged. “It’s sentimental, I know, but…”

“It was a kind thought,” Hux said, coming up beside him and taking the plate from him. It was cold to the touch. “But I can’t use it.”

Kylo’s brows lifted. “No?”

Hux stooped to set the piece of armor down into the chest. “No. If I was captured by the Resistance and then escaped, I likely wouldn’t have it anymore. It makes more sense to wear civilian clothes.”

“Right,” Kylo said. “I should have thought of that.” He chewed his lower lip. “Do you want me to get rid of this then?”

“Yes,” said Hux, without hesitation. “I’m not a soldier anymore. I’m with you.” He slid his arms around Kylo’s neck and kissed his open mouth. Right now he didn’t want to focus on the next day; their time together was in this place at this moment.

Kylo seemed to understand, and drew him closer. Hux pushed his tongue against Kylo’s, brushing with intent. He was still bare from the waist up, and Kylo’s right hand was cool against his hip. The left was warmer and softer, the thumb stroking. He tugged at the ends of Kylo’s hair and got a few nips in response, stinging his lips.

“I want you inside me,” Hux murmured. “All of you. Before tomorrow.” Kylo groaned into the kiss, and Hux persisted, “Don’t refuse me again.”

“Okay,” Kylo said, hushed. He traced Hux’s spine up to the knobs at the top, right at the base of his skull.

Hux needed more. “Say you want me,” he insisted.

Kylo was quick to comply: “I want you.”

Feeling it down to his bones, Hux turned their kiss violent, pressing relentlessly into Kylo’s mouth and pulling his hair. Kylo grasped at him in return and began to guide him toward the bed. Hux, though, wanted to be naked first. Relinquishing his hold on Kylo, he began to unfasten his trousers and lower them. Kylo took his cue and pulled his loose shirt off over his head.

Hux was a captive audience for his undressing, watching as he pushed his trousers down his legs, leaving him in only his undershorts. They were black and clung to the curve of his backside, the waistband just below his navel, where the V of muscle from his abdomen cut down to his groin. Hux wanted to nuzzle the grooves there until his nose was nestled in the hair at the base of Kylo’s cock.

“You look like you’re going to make a meal of me,” Kylo said, tugging the undershorts away to bare him. He was half-hard under Hux’s gaze.

Stepping out of the pool of his trousers, Hux padded barefoot to him and dropped to his knees. He did just as he had imagined, nosing his way along, dragging his lower lip in a damp partial kiss. Kylo’s skin smelled of musk and heat, both comforting and arousing. Hux kissed the root of his cock, but not further up, saving that for later. Kylo groaned, sliding his fingers into Hux’s hair and massaging his scalp.

Holding Kylo’s hips, Hux rose again, and Kylo yanked him against his chest. Hux let his head fall back as Kylo hungrily kissed and sucked at his neck. A warning not to mark him was on the tip of Hux’s tongue, but he swallowed it back. He didn’t care what the First Order saw when they stripped and searched him.

“Come lie down with me?” Kylo asked as he sucked Hux’s earlobe into his mouth.

Hux hummed an assent and allowed Kylo to pull him onto the soft linens of the bed, guiding him to lie on his back, head on a pillow, while Kylo continued to attentively tongue along his collarbone.

“We’ll go slowly,” Kylo murmured. “Take our time. Be gentle.”

Hux pushed hard against his chest until he reared back far enough to see him. “No,” he said. “I don’t want tentative and careful. I want you to _take_ me.”

Kylo blinked at him slowly, his eyes dark, lids lowered. He was bracing himself with his right arm, but with the left hand, he cupped Hux’s cheek, his thumb over his lips. He said, “I won’t hurt you, even if you wanted me to.”

“I’m not asking you to for that,” said Hux, leaning into the touch. “But I don’t want you to hold back, either.”

 _Claim what’s yours_ , he might have said, but it would have sounded too much like the language of his life debt. Kylo had made it clear that Hux did not belong to him, but that he was free to do as he pleased. What he pleased, though, now, was to have Kylo buried inside of him.

“I took your fingers well,” he pressed on. “I’m ready for more.” He swallowed, unused to begging. “Please, Kylo.”

Kylo’s reaction was immediate and intoxicating. He shuddered under Hux’s hands, his lips parting just slightly as he closed his eyes.

Rapt, Hux raised a hand to his cheek and said again, “ _Please_.”

He hadn’t even space to breathe before Kylo was gone, rolling across the bed to the table beside it and pulling out a bottle of lubricant. Hux spread his legs in preparation, and Kylo took his place between them. In seconds his slick fingers were at Hux’s entrance, and Hux willed his body to relax and accept them.

The first was easy, and despite Hux’s insistence, Kylo went unhurriedly, circling and pushing in and out to loosen him. Hux hissed when he pressed against the sensitive spot inside him, and Kylo grinned under the hair that hung around his bowed head.

“Tell me if it’s too fast,” Kylo said, putting the second finger in with relative ease.

“All right,” said Hux as he breathed through the fullness.

Kylo increased his pace, going as deep as he could and then pulling out again, taking much less care. Hux dropped his head onto the pillow and pushed back onto him, demanding more. He groaned, grinding his teeth, as Kylo moved the third finger into him. This was new, and a great deal more. But Kylo didn’t slow down. He pressed in and out with slick sounds that accompanied the consistent stretch of Hux’s muscles. Kylo’s fingers brushed over him again and again, sparking pleasure up through his cock. He reached down to take himself in hand and stroked languidly.

“Keep going,” Kylo said. “If you finish, it’ll be easier for you to take me. You relax more.”

Hux’s stomach clenched with desire, but he shook his head. “I want to come when you’re inside me.”

That elicited another tremble, but Kylo said, “In a minute.”

Hux watched as Kylo shifted to lower himself closer, until his face was all but between Hux’s legs. He turned his eyes up, holding Hux’s gaze, as he took him shallowly into his mouth, the underside lying on his tongue. Hux groaned, caught up in the feeling of warmth and penetration. Together, they were overwhelming.

Kylo was determined in his attentions, his fingers spread to open Hux for him and his mouth wet and tongue clever. His hair was falling around him as he bobbed his head, taking Hux in. He paused once to breathe and Hux saw how flushed he was, how red and shining his lips were. He looked used, and well. Hux pushed his hair back from his brow, fingers snagging in small knots and making Kylo look up at him.

“Now,” he said. “I want you now.”

Kylo, this time, didn’t hesitate or object. He drew his fingers out and, opening the bottle of lubricant again, poured enough into his hand to slick his cock. He grabbed a pillow with his free hand and helped Hux to put it under his hips. It tipped Hux up, putting him on display. Kylo’s attention turned immediately there and, with his left hand around his cock to guide it, lined up with Hux’s entrance.

The first push was intense, revealing just how big he was and how much Hux would have to take. Hux stayed perfectly still, concentrating on permitting him entry. Inch by inch, Kylo began to slide into him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pausing with his damp hand resting on Hux’s thigh.

Hux actually did take stock. He was full and feeling as if Kylo went any further, he would be rent in two. It wasn’t painful, though, just strange and invasive.

“I’m fine,” Hux replied. “Keep going.”

Kylo did, once against easing himself deeper. The pressure built and built until it seemed everything inside of Hux was shifting to accommodate him. Finally, though, Kylo’s hips met his ass, and it stopped.

Kylo’s voice quavered as he said, “You feel so good. I can barely breathe.”

Hux did so for him, still getting used to the intrusion in his body. He knew they couldn’t just stay still, though, so he wrapped his arms around Kylo’s back and shifted his hips. “Go on. I’m yours.”

Kylo lowered his head to touch his brow to Hux’s. “You’re so much. I can’t…”

“You can,” Hux said, and he kissed him.

The drag of Kylo’s cock made him shudder, but when he thrust back in Hux outright gasped. There was the power of the movement, but also the blunt brush of him against Hux’s prostate. Everything was tingling at once, and Hux clung tighter to Kylo to ground himself.

Kylo built a steady rhythm, chasing his pleasure but not demanding it. At his quiet encouragement, Hux reached for his cock again and began to work himself in time. Kylo kept his eyes closed for the most part, but he tucked his head into the crook of Hux’s shoulder and mouthed at his skin. He mumbled things—“So good. _Stars_ , Hux, you’re incredible.”—as they fucked, some more intelligible than others. Hux focused on it, and it centered him in the moment.

Sweat, the sound of skin on skin, Hux’s own soft grunts with each of Kylo’s thrusts: it all came together in a heady blend of sound and sensation that had Hux’s pleasure building. Having Kylo inside him felt right, now, and he moved to take him deeper and at just the right angle to drive him over the edge. When Kylo bit down on the join of his shoulder, that was it; the orgasm swept over him in electrically charged waves, setting nerves alight. His head was swimming, but he heard and felt it clearly when Kylo cursed, went taut, and came into him.

Hux lay under him for an indeterminate time, lax and coming down from his high. Thousands of worlds in the galaxy and yet somehow they had managed to end up here, together. Hux was glad he had never done this with anyone else. It was right that it was Kylo, whatever had led him to Hux in Utel City that night.

Eventually, Kylo began to go soft and slip out of him. He lifted himself away and crept to the edge of the bed. He knelt there and said, “You should take a hot shower. It’ll help with the soreness.” He held out his hand and Hux took it.

The walk to the refresher was a halting one at first, but he managed to straighten his stride after a few paces. Kylo went ahead into the shower cubicle and turned on the water. Hux gave himself a passing look in the mirror. There was a purple bruise in the shape of Kylo’s mouth between his neck and shoulder and there were a few smaller marks along his chest. He touched them all, tracing imaginary lines between them, and smiled.

“Come on,” Kylo said, catching his wrist and drawing him into the cubicle.

The hot water felt wonderful, and Hux turned his face up into it to let it wash over him. Behind him, Kylo massaged his back with soapy hands.

“Was that all right?” Kylo asked, working away tension Hux hadn’t been aware of. “You liked it?”

“Mm, yes,” Hux replied, sounding to himself like a purring cat. “And I’ll like it again in a few hours.” He was pushing his limits with that a little, he guessed, but it was worth a try.

Kylo chuckled, trying to tickle his sides and failing; Hux wasn’t ticklish. “You need a break. Me, on the other hand…”

Hux put a hand behind him to brush Kylo’s thigh. He wouldn’t mind if they turned about, and he could feel Kylo around him. “We’ll need another shower.”

“We can take as many as we want,” Kylo said between kisses along the back of Hux’s shoulders. “But we should sleep, too. You need to rest before—”

“I’ll survive without a full night’s sleep,” Hux countered. He turned in Kylo’s arms to look him in the face. “If _you_ can.”

“ _Hmph_ ,” Kylo grumbled. “I’ve a good reason to.” He ran his palm over Hux’s wet hair. “There’s so much I still want to know about you.”

For Hux it was the same. They had shared a great deal in such a short time, but there was always more to hear. “I’ll tell you anything,” he said.

Kylo kissed his brow. “Let’s dry off and then I’ll grill you.” A grin. “Are you hurting? 1H could give you a shot.”

“ _No_ ,” Hux said firmly. He had no interest in explaining to the little droid that his ass was aching from sex, even if it knew he and Kylo were lovers. “That won’t be necessary.”

Kylo slapped his buttock and Hux winced. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

They toweled off cursorily before cleaning their teeth and returning to the bed. Under the covers they wrapped their arms around each other, settling comfortably.

“So,” Hux said, “what else would you know about me?” He had no particular stories in mind.

Kylo sighed, breath minty and cool. “Maybe your first mission?”

“It’s a long story,” Hux warned. He liked that memory, however, and would be glad to share it.

“We have all night,” said Kylo. He pinched Hux’s side playfully. “If we need a break, we always have something to do.”

Hux grinned, kissed him, and began to talk.

 

* * *

 

Utel City looked different in the daylight than Hux remembered from his nighttime stakeouts. The buildings were less brightly lit, but their transparisteel surfaces winked in the sunshine. Kylo landed the _Arrow_ on a public pad somewhere nearby the place he had docked the _Falcon_ the night Hux had met him. The First Order’s recruitment center was across the city, and Hux would have to take a speeder taxi to get there. Kylo had proposed going with him, but Hux had refused. He preferred to be on his own as soon as he left the freighter. He needed to be in a appropriate mindset for this, and Kylo would be a distraction.

They stood in the cargo bay as the loading door was lowered, Hux dressed in the plainest clothes from Tyrish’s. He had left his blaster in the arms cabinet. The city sounds could be heard even from inside the ship, beckoning him.

To Kylo he said, “I’ll go from here.”

Kylo nodded, his lips a thin, concerned line. “All right.” Uncaring of the passersby, he pulled Hux to him and kissed him hard. “Be careful,” he said stridently. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Hux cupped his face. “I’ll see you then,” he said. Reluctantly, he eased himself out of Kylo’s embrace. “Goodbye, Kylo.” And then he turned and went down to the ramp.

The hollowness stayed in his chest as he cut through the port hurriedly, though he fought not to dwell on if he would see Kylo again. By the time he hit the main streets, he hailed a taxi and paid with the chip Kylo had given him. The directions he gave were clear, but indicated a cross street a block away from the recruiting center. It wasn’t obviously that, but he knew its location and likely what he would find there.

He was camouflaged amongst the people on the sidewalk as he approached the building, but felt as conspicuous as ever. He ducked into the alcove and paused for just a moment before going through the doors to act the part of a recently escaped prisoner. He had never played a role before, and hoped he would be at least somewhat convincing. After all, he would have to hold up to interrogation. Steeling himself, he burst into the building.

Two young men were standing just inside, clearly having been in conference. They were not uniformed, but similarly enough dressed to indicate that the clothes had been issued. Coolly, they took Hux in, their fingers inching toward their blasters.

“Can we help you, sir?” one of them—dark-haired and snub-nosed—asked with an edge of suspicion. Most recruits were brought or sent here by recommendation of an operative. They had appointments; Hux did not.

He came forward a few steps, but not close enough to seem a threat. “HX-4874 reporting,” he said, feigning windedness.

That snub nose wrinkled. “We don’t have an HX-4874 on the docket for today.”

“No,” said Hux. “You wouldn’t. I was here on a mission a week ago, but was taken captive. I just managed to escape.”

The operatives looked at each other. One went to a console and began typing. The other kept watch of Hux.

“HX-4874 failed to report back to the rendezvous point after an assignment on this planet ten standard days ago,” the one at the console said. “Most of the deployed team was killed. He was presumed dead.”

“Well, I’m not,” Hux said curtly. “And I have important information for the Order. I _must_ see high command.”

Brows rose. They knew as well as Hux did that getting an audience with them would be next to impossible.

“What information?” the snub-nosed one asked.

Hux took his stand. “I’ll give it only to command.”

The second operative snorted, but said, “We’ll send a message to our captain, but you’re not going anywhere until we speak to yours. Who did you report to?”

“Phasma,” Hux replied. “ _Finalizer_.”

Snub Nose reached behind a nearby counter to produce a pair of binders. Hux might have expected this.

“Until we get you checked out,” Snub Nose said, “you’ll go to the brig. Do you do so willingly?”

Hux held out his wrists. “I do. But hurry and contact Phasma. This information won’t keep.”

He was clipped into the binders and led passively into a back room. There was no actual cell to lock him in, but they sat him in a chair and bound his feet, too. They gave him a last mistrustful glare before shutting the door behind them. Hux looked up at the illuminators above him and turned himself fully over to the mission. If he was lucky, in a day he would be with Kylo again; if luck wasn’t with him, he’d he dead.

He thought of the bond Kylo had told him of and envied the Jedi who could communicate across star systems without a word—only impressions, emotions. If he had that with Kylo, though, he would have felt Hux’s fear. Hux was ashamed of that, but he knew Kylo wouldn’t have judged him for it. If anything he would have shared his own apprehension. And if they were so connected, Hux wouldn’t be alone here. Even when he was back on a star destroyer with thousands, he still would be. That solitude wouldn’t go until he was back with Kylo.

_I’ll be waiting for you._

Hux hoped he wouldn’t wait in vain.


	10. Hux/Kylo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split between Hux and Kylo's points of view, indicated by the section break.

Hux wasn’t certain how long he spent in the makeshift brig on Utel Gamma, but he knew he dozed some, resting half alert as he did when he was in one of his sniper’s nests. When, finally, the door opened again, four operatives in street clothes came through. Hux didn’t mistake them for anything other than stormtroopers, no matter what they wore to blend in with the civilians planetside.

“HX-4874,” said one, a woman with angular features and a jawline so sharp it might have cut durasteel, “we’re here to escort you to the star destroyer _Finalizer_. Your captain is expecting you.”

Unable to rise or salute—which they didn’t deserve; Hux ranked higher—he acknowledged the order with a nod. The troopers freed his feet so he could walk and pulled him roughly up. They shoved him through the door and into the main room, where Snub Nose and the second operative stood out of the way, watching the procession sternly. Hux didn’t spare them a glance as he was marched past them and onto the sidewalk outside. The troopers flanked him on all sides, caging him in and hiding him from most passersby, who certainly would have noticed the binders on his wrists.

“How far is the _Finalizer_ from here?” he asked as they made their way toward an unmarked, utilitarian ground transport. He was pushed inside with a hand on his head and made to sit between two of the troopers.

He had expected to be treated this way—mistrusted and pending ruthless interrogation—but after Kylo’s gentle touches, it felt like a violation. There was a lingering soreness from the night before, aggravated by the hard chair he had been forced to sit in, but he relished it; it was his tie to Kylo and a precious memory of how his body had stretched to take him.

“You don’t need to know that,” said the female trooper curtly.

Hux supposed he didn’t.

The transport zipped across the city, the pilot dodging slower traffic and occasionally throwing Hux into each of the troopers’ shoulders with the momentum of the turns. Nobody spoke for the duration of the ride.

At a public landing pad was a small shuttle, just large enough for the five of them. Hux was led aboard and strapped into a chair, stiff muscles protesting. He said nothing, though, waiting for the engines to fire up and take them whatever distance to where the _Finalizer_ was waiting.

He returned to his rest as they flew, knowing he wouldn’t be permitted sleep upon arrival. He wasn’t offered one of the ration bars the troopers distributed, and he didn’t ask for one. He was accustomed to going without food when he was on a mission, and his stomach was too tight to eat anyway. He’d prefer, too, not to vomit under the influence of the interrogation serums, if they chose to give them to him. If they did, he was bound for execution; he wouldn’t be able to lie about Kylo, about the Resistance. He hoped fervently that the information he gave willingly wouldn’t require extreme measures.

The time that passed was again indeterminate, but when the troopers began to stir, he shook himself awake. The shuttle docked with a slight shudder, the engines spooling down as the side door slid open to reveal the massive hangar bay of a star destroyer. Hux could see banks of TIE fighters across the glossy black deck, and armored troopers were moving through the space, a few pilots along with them.

Hux was pulled up and away from his seat, dragged out of the shuttle and up to where Captain Phasma, his direct superior, stood with her arms hanging at her sides. Her chrome helmet was firmly in place, as it always was. Hux remembered what she looked like—white blond hair, strong nose and chin—but he was more accustomed to seeing her in her armor than out of it.

“HX-4874,” she said. “I didn’t expect to find you alive after your disappearance. I’ve been told you have information. What does it pertain to?”

“The Resistance,” Hux said. “They took me captive during my mission.”

The reply was deadpan, unaffected: “But they released you?”

He shook his head, displacing the already disordered hair over his brow. “I escaped with critical intelligence for high command. It’s extremely time-sensitive.”

Phasma shifted, her red cape swaying around her calves. “Then come with me.”

She took him by the shoulder and pushed him forward. They were watched as they strode across the hangar bay to the lifts. Phasma entered the command for Deck 14, where the brig was. So, that’s how it was to go, then. Hux took a long breath in through his nose, tamping down to unavoidable fear.

He was led into a small interrogation room, the chair standing at the center. Phasma didn’t move him toward it, however, instead locking the door and unshackling him. He rubbed his abraded wrists.

One hand resting on the grip of her blaster, Phasma said, “Talk.”

Hux began carefully: “I have critical intelligence about the location of Resistance shipping and transport as well as an on-planet base.”

“Their main base?”

“No,” he said. “But an important shipping hub and recruiting center.”

“Where?” Phasma asked.

Hux knew it was a gamble, but he replied, “This is too important to work its way up the chain of command. I’ll give the location only to General Hux himself.”

There was a moment of quiet, Hux staring into the chrome facade of Phasma’s helmet and her standing stock still, presumably staring just as intently as he was.

At last, she said, “What makes you think he’d even deign to see you? You’re a trooper. A good one, but still only that.”

Hux ground his teeth. “This is _important_ , Captain.”

Phasma took a step forward, putting her inch or two of height on him to good use. “You’ll give the information to me and I’ll see it reaches him.”

“I won’t,” Hux said. “By the time it does, it will no longer be relevant.” He glared. “Do you think I would lie about this?”

Phasma reached out a gauntleted hand, wrapping it around his throat. “If I vouch for you, it’s my head if you waste the general’s time. _Tell me what you know._ ”

Hux swallowed under her fingers, but stood his ground. “Stay and listen to it when I deliver it to the general.”

Phasma shoved him away and he stumbled back a pace, nearly hitting the chair behind him. “I could have you flogged for insubordination. You still answer to me.” She pointed at the chair. “I could compel you to tell me.”

“Then do that, if you must,” Hux snapped, calling her bluff. “If you want to waste time, go ahead. I’ll not fight you.”

She snarled in frustration, turning away and stalking to the other side of the room. Hux watched her warily; his already tenuous fate rested with her. She put her back to him for a minute, maybe two, but then touched the comm receiver on the wall.

“Mitaka,” she said. “This is Phasma. I have information about the Resistance for General Hux. I need to get on his schedule as soon as possible. Highest priority. I have to bring a trooper with me. HX-4874. Run his credentials.” She paused, presumably waiting for this Mitaka to do so. “1400 in conference room five. Understood. We’ll be there. Phasma out.”

Hux didn’t dare show his relief; he just waited impassively for her to speak again.

“All right,” she said, facing him again. “You’ve got your audience. _Do not_ kark this up for either of us. We’ve got a few minutes; let’s get you cleaned up and into something regulation.”

She grabbed him by the arm again, all but dragging him out of the room and into the passage. They took the lift to the Deck 8 and the troopers’ barracks. Hux wasn’t at all unclean—he had bathed with Kylo yesterday morning—but he was put into the sonic and his hair trimmed to suit by a businesslike droid who beeped at him only once when it was finished with its work. Hux thought of 1H with a pang of sorrow. He was issued the troopers’ black fatigues and boots. Despite their familiarity, he felt out of place in them, and watched remorsefully as his civilian clothes were disposed of. In the refresher mirror, he saw himself as he had once been: a loyal trooper. Now, he was everything but.

“Come on,” Phasma ordered when he returned to her. They fell into step together, taking the lifts up to the higher decks, where command was based. The helm of the ship was on Deck 30, but they stopped at 28. The small conference rooms were labeled by number, their doors otherwise completely uniform. They went into room five, where a young lieutenant was waiting, poised with a datapad.

“The General should be along shortly,” he said. “Will you sit?”

Hux didn’t think that at all appropriate, and thankfully neither did Phasma. She told the lieutenant that they would stand and they both took up parade rest, their stance wide and hands clasped behind their backs.

Hux considered what he was about to face. He had been in his brother’s presence only once before in his life: when he was brought home from the hospital. Since, Hux had only seen him in propaganda holos. The resemblance was there, he knew, and he wondered what Phasma and the young Mitaka would make of it. Maybe nothing, but it seemed impossible that they could face each other and not see their shared blood.

Five long, silent minutes later, Brendol Hux II, the youngest general in the First Order at twenty-eight, swept into the room. He was shorter than Hux by about four inches and had a rounder, strong-chinned face than his elder brother did. His hair was just as red, though, and closely cropped to standard, just as Hux’s was. Narrow shoulders were draped over with his greatcoat, the bars on the sleeve designating his rank. His prim hat was on his head, the perfect image of an officer. Bren, his parents had called him as a baby.

Hux snapped to attention, saluting smartly. Phasma followed suit, though the lieutenant kept hold of his datapad without a salute. Hux supposed he was accustomed enough to the general’s presence that it wasn’t necessary.

“Captain Phasma,” Bren said in his perfect Imperial accent, “I hear you have information on the Resistance.” He cocked a haughty brow. “Could this not have been reported to your superior and put in a report to me?”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Phasma said. “The data is, as I’ve been told, time-sensitive.”

Bren’s gaze cut to Hux, and Hux saw that his eyes were the same green as his own. It was disconcerting how similar they were. If Bren marked it, he didn’t show it, instead saying “You, trooper, are the one who brought it. How did you come by this intelligence?”

“I was taken prisoner by the Resistance on Utel Gamma, Sir,” Hux replied. “They discovered my position. I eliminated the target, but was subdued and taken to their base on-planet.”

He and Kylo had agreed that he would have been kept there rather than being taken elsewhere, otherwise he would not have returned to the Utel City operations center.

Bren hummed, tracing the edge of the spotless conference table; his fingernails were manicured. “At least you managed to complete your mission, even if you failed by getting taken captive. To where did they remove you?”

“A base outside the city,” Hux said, another detail that was based in truth. There _was_ a Resistance operation just beyond the limits of Utel City. “About eight kilometers away, hidden in a former warehouse.”

“You know the location well enough to give it to us?” Bren asked. “Captain Phasma can send a detail to deal with it.”

“I do, sir,” Hux said. He could send them to the warehouse, but they would find nothing. “I’ll provide that as soon as you’ve heard the rest of what I have for you.”

Bren nodded. “And what is that?”

Hux let his arms fall to his sides. “Permission to use the console, sir?”

“Granted.”

Engaging the galaxy display, he called up the coordinates of the shipping routes Admiral Holdo had given him. “These are the locations of six critical shipping routes for Resistance supplies in the next two cycles,” he said. “They’ll be transporting weapons and building supplies, maybe even recruits. We can intercept them and commandeer the cargo, maybe interrogate the crews of the ships.”

Bren manipulated the display to study the routes. “Yes, this could be of use,” he said. “And you got hold of this how?”

“I sliced into their databanks,” Hux lied. “They leave them unguarded. When I escaped, I had just long enough to take whatever I could.”

“That’s very convenient,” said Bren, clearly skeptical. “Are you certain they didn’t _let_ you collect this information as a ploy to fool us?”

Hux typed another command into the console and brought up the location of the Errod base. “They wouldn’t give this up, sir. This is a central operation.”

Bren’s eyes flashed with genuine hunger, and he tapped the display with zoom in. “Two cycles is the time we have to intercept their ships and strike this base?”

“That’s correct, sir,” said Hux. “That’s why I wanted to bring it straight to you.”

“Well done, trooper.” He was facing Hux, seemingly earnest in his commendation. “What’s your unit number again?”

“HX-4874,” Phasma said before Hux could reply. “Sniper detail. He has an exemplary record.”

“The HX units were brought up under my father,” Bren said, looking Hux over from nose to feet. “But you look a bit old to be one of them.”

Hux didn’t blink at he stared hard at his brother. He said, “I entered the Program at six years old.”

Bren’s brows rose. “That’s extremely rare. There haven’t been units older than eight months brought into the Program in decades, and definitely not under my charge.” He took a step closer to Hux, studying him. “You must have had a unique aptitude.”

“No, sir,” Hux said, fighting to keep his voice level. “I was sent here by my father.”

“Ah, you remember your origins,” Bren said coolly. “That must be harder to condition out upon entrance to the Program. It hasn’t seemed to work to your detriment, if what Phasma says about your record is true.”

“I always wanted to serve, sir,” Hux said. “I’m good at what I do, and I’m dedicated to the Order’s cause.” The words were still so reminiscent of the truth that they rolled easily off his tongue.

Bren’s smile was cold and formal. “I have no doubt of that after what you’ve brought us today. You’ve done well, HX-4874. You’re a credit to the Order.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hux said. “I can safely assume that I’ll be reinstated, then?”

“You will be,” said Bren. “After reconditioning.”

Hux’s stomach dropped. Of course, he would be put through the process again; he might have expected it. He hadn’t ever been reconditioned, only having gone through the initial ingest procedure. He remembered troopers who had, though, and they never returned the same. Their memories were spottier; they often didn’t recall troopers they had served with for years. If Hux went through it, it was very likely he would forget his father, his brother, but most of all Kylo. He couldn’t let it happen; he had to find a way off of the _Finalizer_.

“Yes, sir,” he forced out. It looked that Bren was about to dismiss him, but he jumped at his chance to confront him before he could be ushered out. Hux asked, “Did you ever spend rainy afternoons in the conservatory as boy?”

Bren paused, bewildered. “What?”

“At the estate on Arkanis,” Hux continued. “There was a small conservatory where I watched the rain when Rella was busy.”

Bren’s face went white. “How do you know that name?”

Hux huffed. “She took care of me before she saw to you. I had always guessed they would have kept her on. She was a good nanny. Did she read to you, too?”

“How dare you!” Bren exclaimed, shock giving way to ire. “You have no right to claim to know such... such _personal_ things.”

“I have every right,” said Hux. “I came before you. I would be in your place had my mother not been a kitchen girl Brendol Hux dallied with.” He held out his hands, open-palmed. “Look at me and tell me you don’t see him there, as plain as you see him in you... little brother.”

Bren backed away, eyes wide and almost frightened. “You lie,” he said. “I have no brother.”

Phasma stalked up to Hux and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Do you want me to hit him, General?”

“No,” Bren said, rushed. “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself. Hux could read his distress and watched with some measure of satisfaction as he tried to make sense of the revelation. When he looked up again, it was at Phasma. “Leave us, Captain. You, too, Mitaka.”

“But, sir,” Phasma protested, “without a guard—”

Bren brushed his greatcoat to the side, revealing a blaster at his hip. “I’m armed, and I still remember my hand-to-hand training. Leave us.”

Phasma released Hux and, without a word, left the room. Mitaka scrambled after her, casting a last worried glance at Bren before he disappeared into the passage outside. Hux remained where he was, blinking slowly at Bren, waiting for him to speak. However, he said nothing, instead going to the console and furiously typing on the blue holo keyboard. In seconds, Hux’s profile was displayed. Bren went straight for the genetic record that was kept on every trooper. He keyed it in alongside another—presumably his own—and Hux watched as allele after allele matched up.

“Kriff me,” Bren swore. He rounded on Hux. “How did you know this and I did not? Why have you never tried to contact me before?”

“I didn’t necessarily know that you weren’t aware,” Hux said. “But I figured our father wouldn’t tell you. I was nothing to him after you were born—a bastard to cast off, nothing more. And I didn’t see a reason to contact you. I have no bearing on your life nor you on mine, save for that you’re the general and my commanding officer.”

Bren began to pace, something Hux had seen his father do but did not do himself; he had been trained for stillness. “It makes no sense. With two sons as officers, he might have had two generals to serve. Why put you into the Program?”

“To be rid of me,” said Hux. “I’m a stain on his family name.”

“Oh,” Bren said, freezing. “You’re not just HX-4874. You have... a name.”

He said it slowly, “Armitage Hux.”

Bren rubbed a hand across his face. “Armitage. He called you something different—didn’t name you after himself, as he did me.”

Hux shrugged. “You were the legitimate child.” He sucked his teeth, adding, truthfully, “I likely shouldn’t have brought it up. It makes no difference to either of us, but... I wanted you to know what he’s capable of: throwing a child away, and then, when I didn’t die like he wanted, making a concerted effort to have me killed.”

“What?” Bren asked again, startled. “Surely you’re mistaken.”

“I would be dead now if the Resistance hadn’t picked me up,” Hux replied. “My own men turned on me.”

Bren shook his head, eyes closed and hands clenched into fists. “We have to take this to him, to my—our—father.”

Hux bristled. “No. The only reason I will ever see him again will be to put him in the ground, just as he tried to do to me.”

“You can’t murder him,” Bren said. “You’re a trooper. You wouldn’t have access to him.”

“Am I?” Hux asked sharply.

“What the kriff is that supposed to mean?” Bren demanded.

Hux leveled him with a dark look. “After learning this, do you still plan to recondition me? Our father would without question, if he couldn’t dredge up a reason to have me executed straight away.”

“I won’t kill my own brother,” said Bren. He hesitated, calculating. “But, you’re right, I can’t just throw you away... like he did.” His eyes flashed. “You’re marked a missing in action in your file; I haven’t yet had it updated. If Father finds out you’re alive, will he make another attempt of your life?”

“Maybe not immediately,” Hux said, “but eventually. And I’m certain he would if he knew I had come to you with the truth.”

It was bizarre to face his brother this way. Despite the shock, Bren seemed to be seriously considering Hux’s future, of which he still had full control. For a moment, Hux considered what might happen if he chose to stay. Perhaps Bren would see to it that he could return to his post and continue as a sharpshooter. Perhaps he would promote him and give him his own command. He wouldn’t be a commissioned officer, but he would hold rank over even Phasma. In the space of a heartbeat Hux desired it, but the ambition faded just as swiftly as it had come. He wanted to be with Kylo; he wanted to be free of the Order.

“You’re likely right,” Bren said. “We’ll have to keep you elsewhere until I can find a way to address this with him.”

“Don’t,” said Hux sharply. “Don’t tell him. You’re not responsible for me. I can look out for myself.” He took a step forward, putting him close enough to smell Bren’s aftershave. This man was his blood, but he meant almost nothing to him. He continued, “I don’t want to give him warning that I’m coming for him.”

Bren’s ruddy brows drew together. “You can’t—” He didn’t finish. Hux grabbed him by the neck and wrestled him into a headlock, holding him tightly until he started to go limp. He wouldn’t kill him, but he needed to get away. This was his opportunity.

Laying Bren’s inert body on the durasteel floor, Hux went to the console—open with the general’s credentials. He brought up the main interface and began his search for the Starkiller data. If Bren had even a fraction of his father’s hubris, he wouldn’t have used an alternate name for the files. Hux grinned darkly as that proved true. He prepared the data for transfer, connecting the console to the port Kylo had set up for it. A few seconds passed—Hux held his breath—before the connection was made, but then the data began to flow.

As the transfer worked, Hux opened the personnel records. It was simple enough to find Commandant Brendol Hux. Current location: Starkiller Base, main staffing and training facility. So, if Hux was to find his father, he would have to locate this base, too. He scrolled through some of the information about the program he was in charge of while the transfer completed. It seemed Brendol no longer controlled the Stormtrooper Program, but he still had a role to play in training soldiers. Hux could find a way to him through that pipeline.

The console gave a dainty _ping_ when it was finished, but before Hux logged out of the console, he went into his own file and changed his status to “Deceased.” Let Brendol think he had succeeded. With a decisive few keystrokes, he powered the console down.

“Goodbye, Brother,” he said as he stepped over Bren’s prone form and left the room.

Unfortunately, both Phasma and Mitaka were standing just outside. They turned to look as he stepped into the passage.

“The general is unwell,” Hux said quickly. “He collapsed just a moment ago.”

“Stars above!” Mitaka cried, shouldering past him to get into the conference room.

Phasma’s hand snapped out to grab Hux’s forearm, yanking him to her. “Come with me.” Louder, to Mitaka: “I’m taking HX-4874 to the brig.”

Hux, adrenaline suffusing his body, was forced to go along with her. He didn’t fight, but he was running every possible scenario for escape through his mind. He doubted he could overpower her as he had Bren, not when she was armored, better armed, and better trained, and even if he managed to break free of her, she could shoot him before he got three paces away. Whatever he did, though, it would be have to be before they got to the brig; once he was there, he doubted he would get out again.

Phasma led him to the lift and she entered the appropriate deck level, but as soon as the lift began to move, she slammed the emergency stop. Hux turned to watch her remove her helmet and bare a stern face.

“What did you do to the General?” she demanded.

Hux had no space to lie. “Choked him out.”

“Why?”

“I needed to access to his security clearance on the console,” Hux said. “There was data I had to export.”

Phasmas blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re a Resistance spy.”

“If you must put it in those terms, yes,” he said. “I was sent here to gather intelligence and report it back.”

“Is anything you said true?” she snapped. “The information you gave General Hux? What you said about him... and you?”

Hux nodded. “The information is good, and yes, he’s my brother.”

Phasma looked at the deck readout, pressing his lips together until they were almost white. “When did you turn?”

“It’s not that simple,” said Hux.

Phasma slammed her fist into the wall beside his head. “Don’t you dare lie to me now. I’ll kill you right here for the traitor you are.”

Hux asked, “Why haven’t you already?”

She scowled at him, but replied, “I want to know why the Resistance would ever trust you with a kind of mission like this unless you’ve been a mole here for months, even years. _When_ did you turn?”

“I wasn’t a mole,” Hux said slowly. “I was perfectly loyal all my life, and I had every intention of coming back to the Order after Utel Gamma, but I owed my life to a Resistance fighter. I swore him a debt and this is how I am paying it.” He sighed, falling back against the wall. “I’m not doing this for Organa and her army; it’s for him.”

“You’d betray us for a life debt?” Phasma spat. “You should have just let him kill you.”

“You assume I expected to survive this assignment,” Hux countered. “I knew the chances were slim. You have me now, after all, and you are within your rights kill cut me down.” He tipped his head back to bare his throat, resigned.

Her expression stayed stony, but her gaze darted over his face and neck before coming back to meet his. “Did you actually have a plan to escape?”

“A poor one,” he said. “If he succeeded in locating the _Finalizer_ , there’s a ship waiting for me. I need only to get to an escape pod.” He eyed her critically, reading the palpable indecision. “If you let me go, General Hux will have you executed. But you could come with me.”

The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. “Would they take me, the Resistance?”

“It wouldn’t be easy for them to trust you,” Hux said, “but they likely would. They were willing to accept me on one man’s word.”

“They’re fools, then,” Phasma growled.

Hux chuckled, thinking of good-natured Poe and mistrustful Holdo. “I won’t outright deny that, but bring them something of value and they might give you a chance.”

“I know the Program,” she said.

“What do you know of Starkiller Base?” Hux asked.

A twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed a smile. “I’ve been there.”

Hux surged up from his place against the wall, grasping her arm. “Then come. They could use you.”

She extricated herself from his grip, placing her helmet back over her head. “There’s someone I want to bring along with us.”

Hux’s nostrils flared. “We don’t have time to waste. The ship is waiting.”

“It won’t take long.” She entered a new destination into the interface and reengaged the lift. Hux’s stomach heaved as it sped down.

They came to a stop on Deck 14, the troopers’ barracks. Phasma bid Hux walk at her side, and they went unhurriedly into the passage.

“Where are we going?” Hux hissed.

“Shut up.” was all Phasma said in reply.

Several groups of troopers in their regulation fatigues passed them by, their conversations dying out as they saw Phasma. They weren’t required to salute her, but they owed her respect. They looked Hux over, too, presumably deciding if he had been singled out for good work or for poor performance. Either way, had Hux been one of them, he wouldn’t have envied a trooper escorted alone by his captain.

They rounded the corner into one of the common rooms, where twenty or so troopers were enjoying their leisure hours. When Phasma entered, though, all eyes turned to her.

“FN-2187,” she said sharply, “report.”

From the back corner, a young man with full lips and dark skin got to his feet, throwing down his playing card. “Here, Captain.”

“Come with us,” she bid him.

He strode with haste across the room, dodging chairs and other troopers as they scrambled to get out of the way, until he was standing in front of Phasma and Hux. Hux looked him over. According to his flash, he was an infantry trooper of not particular designation. But he was young and still had time to distinguish himself. However, it was unlikely he’d have the chance, if Phasma was summoning him along with them now. How many troopers wanted to defect, Hux wondered. Perhaps far more than he had ever suspected before.

The three of them took their leave of the common room, none of them saying anything until they once again got to the lift. Phasma gave FN-2187 a quick synopsis of what they were about to do.

When she was finished, the young man stared wide-eyed at Hux. “You came _back_? You got out and then you _came back_?”

“I had my reasons,” Hux said. “And you have yours. I won’t ask to know them, and neither will you ask to know mine.”

FN-2187 nodded fervently. “I won’t.” To Phasma: “Where are we going to get a pod?”

“Deck 4,” she replied.

Hux shot her a glance. “Weapons storage?”

“There have been some electrical shorts down there in the past few weeks,” she said. “A few of the escape pods malfunctioned.”

“Accidental launches?” FN-2187 asked.

“They read as launched on the bridge,” she said, “but they never jettisoned. They won’t be in a rush to scan outside the ship for a pod if they think it’s just another malfunction.”

Hux couldn’t really believe that luck; it was too good to be true, and he said as much.

Phasma shrugged. “It’s the best chance we’ve got. Does your ship pilot have a scanner out for distress signals?”

“He should,” said Hux. _Kylo, I’m coming back to you._

“Good. Then let’s get this done.”

The lift doors opened to reveal a towering warehouse deck filled with crates of state-of-the-art armaments. Hux could easily guess that all of this was more than what the Resistance had on D’Qar. And there were several other star destroyers in the First Order’s fleet. Leia Organa had to know what she was facing, and yet she didn’t back down. One had to admire that about her.

Phasma led the way through the maze of industrial shelving towering storeys above their heads. These storage decks were survailed, and there were certainly be a record of their coming through, but as long as they were quick about getting out, it wouldn’t raise the alarms right away. The escape pods were built into the exterior hull, their doors locked down until the emergency evacuation was sounded.

“Do you have clearance to access these?” Hux asked. He himself would have had to remove a panel and try to cross the right wires to get the doors to open—another thing he likely would have been unable to do before being caught. Stars above, this had been a tremendously stupid plan on his part.

“You mean this clearance?” Phasma asked as she drew her blaster and obliterated the access panel.

FN-2187 jumped back, just keeping the sparks from hitting his black boots.

The hatch slid open, permitting them entry into the small four-person pod. Hux shoved them both through before he got in himself and engaged the ejection procedure.

“How’s your ship going to find us?” FN-2187 asked around the shaking to the pod as its thrusters began to fire.

“He’ll find me,” Hux replied. “If he’s out there, he’ll find me.” He was slammed back into his seat as the pod shot out from the _Finalizer_ and into space.

 

* * *

 

The cockpit of the _Arrow_ seemed unusually cramped as Kylo sat in the pilot’s seat, watching the console for any sign of activity through the port he had established to transfer the Starkiller data. He had been in position off the port flank of the First Order destroyer _Finalizer_ for the past sixteen hours, following four hours in transit from Utel Gamma.

After he had left Hux in Utel City, he had keyed in the location to which the Resistance had tracked the destroyer. Kylo hadn’t told Hux he knew—at least vaguely—where the ship would be, having decided with Leia it was better he knew as little as possible about Kylo’s side of the operation. If the First Order ended up interrogating him by chemicals or force, he wouldn’t be able to give up Kylo’s position. He still had to protect himself if Hux failed to get the data.

Despite having an alert set to raise the alarm the second the data began to flow through the port, Kylo hadn’t left the cockpit for more than a few minutes at a time. He hadn’t slept and he hadn’t eaten more than a chocolate cake ration bar; he thought of Hux’s first reaction to it—wonder, surprise—and willed him to come back safely.

Kylo shifted restlessly in his seat, picking at his cuticles until his thumb bled. He sucked the finger into his mouth, tasting iron.

In the idle hours, his thoughts had turned to the night he and Hux had spent together, Kylo inside of Hux in earnest. _Stars_ , it had been good. Hux had been so pliant and willing; Kylo had been putty in his hands. He would have done anything for him—anything to make him feel good. When he had spasmed around Kylo’s cock and cried out, Kylo had been utterly lost. He had intended to pull out and spare Hux the mess of his spend inside him, but he hadn’t been able to. He had been rooted inside of him, compelled to stake his claim. He was the first to have Hux like this, and there was a considerable part of him that wanted to be the last.

Kylo rubbed his brow, pinching his eyes shut. He had told Hux about the Force bond, and he wanted to lie and say he didn’t know why, but he did. Selfishly, he wanted to bind Hux to him, keep him as he had never desired to keep anyone else. Traditionally, the bond was platonic—as was Rey and Luke’s—and most useful for masters and apprentices to train and fight together, but Kylo thought it could be more than that, if both partners wanted it to be. In times like this, when they were separated, Kylo would still be able to find Hux and feel his ties to the Force. That was, of course, if it was possible to form such a bond with someone who was not Force-sensitive. He intended to ask Luke about it, if even _he_ knew.

It was all dependent on Hux, however. If he didn’t want it, Kylo would respect that. Perhaps he would want to leave him someday and pursue his own life. Kylo wouldn’t have blamed him. There was an entire galaxy out there to explore; Hux needn’t be tethered to Kylo forever. Hearts changed; feelings faded. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Hux would tire of him and want to move on. That cut Kylo to the core, but he would have to be prepared for it. Even his mother and father, who had had an infamous love affair, had grown apart in time.

Kylo groaned, head falling back against the rest of his seat. Of all the improbable partners he could find, it had to be Hux. Stars help him, though, he couldn’t imagine anyone else.

In the distance, he could see the massive _Finalizer_ moving steadily through the starscape, its destination unknown to him. At any moment it could go into hyperspace, leaving him unable to follow. The fear hummed through him as a constant, and it kept him on edge. Watching the chronometer, it was nearing the seventeenth hour of his watch. He picked up the datapad he had docked on the main console and typed out a quick status report to D’Qar.

_In position and awaiting data transfer. No contact as of yet. Await next report._

He sent the message, but wasn’t able to bring up anything else on the datapad to pass the time. He docked it again and sat back to continue watching out the forward viewport. For a brief moment, he dipped into the flow of the Force, seeking strength and the will to be still and wait, as he had been taught as a boy at Luke’s school. But he was no Jedi, and the discipline had long ago been lost. He floundered, his connection to the Force tenuous at best.

“Kriff,” he cursed, frustrated and keyed up. He needed a drink. Taking a last look at the console, he got up and wended his way into the lounge, where he kept his liquor. He popped the cork of the bottle and poured two fingers into a glass. He sank onto the bench seat, having last sat here with Hux in his arms, and he craved it now like an addict, burning up inside with a need he couldn’t fill.

He was just about to take a sip of the blue liquor when the alarm sounded across the ship. He dropped the glass, hearing it shatter only absently as he ran to the cockpit and threw himself into his chair. The data transfer had started, pouring information into the _Arrow_ ’s databanks. It was a massive packet of files, over four terabytes. Kylo stared as the progress bar displayed on the console inched toward completion.

The _Arrow_ ’s engines had been at low power to keep up with the star destroyer, but now Kylo increased it in preparation to intercept an escape pod. He turned on the scanners—something that could give him away if the _Finalizer_ ’s crew was attentive enough—and waited, watched.

As the transfer finished, Kylo changed the port and began to feed the data immediately to D’Qar. Leia’s people would want to start processing it as soon as possible. Kylo put that out of his mind, though, as the minutes dragged on and there was still no sign of Hux.

“Come on, come on,” he chanted lowly. “Where are you?”

The scanners _pinged_ with a signal. Kylo was careful to check if it was an enemy ship, but it wasn’t a TIE fighter; it was alone. He pulled back hard on the throttle and the _Arrow_ surged ahead to rendezvous with it.

There was no communication from the pod as it came into view, but Kylo went to it anyway, approaching with less caution than he should have and pulled it in to connect to the airlock at the side of the ship. When it was mated, he put the ship on autopilot and bolted down to where they were joined.

He was breathless, heart thundering, as he skidded to a halt outside the airlock. With desperation, he disengaged the seal and, hissing, the door slid open. Just inside the small pod was a shock of red hair.

“Hux!” Kylo called.

“Kylo,” was the response just before Hux stumbled out of the pod and onto the _Arrow_.

“Stars above,” Kylo said as he gathered Hux up in his arms and pulled him against his chest. “You’re here. You made it.”

Hux took Kylo’s face between his hands and kissed his brow, his cheeks, his mouth. He breathed Kylo’s name over and over.

The relief flooded Kylo’s consciousness, and he barely noticed the two others getting hesitantly out of the escape pod. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him, until he met the eyes of the tall human female. Warily, he eased Hux away from him and growled, “Who are you?”

“It’s all right,” Hux said. “They’re with me.”

Kylo took them in. The blond-haired woman was heavily armored, taller even than Kylo. The man was smaller and dressed in the same black fatigues Hux was wearing.

“Tell me,” said Kylo.

Hux spoke steadily. “They’re defectors. Phasma was my captain, my direct superior. And she brought along FN-2187. They got me out.”

Kylo sucked his teeth, suspicious.

Hux, reading him, laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t expect you to trust them right away, but they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want to get out of the Order.”

“You can lock us up if you must,” Phasma said. “But we mean you no harm.” She unclipped the blaster from her waist and held it out to him. “We surrender.”

Kylo took the weapon, holding it tightly; he would secure it in the locker in short order. He didn’t like any of this, but he trusted Hux. If he had brought them along, they were sincere in their defection.

“I don’t have a brig on this ship,” Kylo said, “so I don’t have anywhere secure to house you.” To Hux: “I put them in your charge. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

Hux nodded. “I understand.” He took Kylo’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be alone with you later.” There was a slight questioning intonation there.

Kylo kissed Hux’s knuckles. “Count on it.” They separated and Kylo continued, “You can have the lounge. We’re going to the station.”

Though he hated to do it, he turned his back on Hux and returned to the cockpit. They needed to get clear of the star destroyer’s space before they were detected. Typing in a command, he jettisoned the pod and input the coordinates for the Ryden 2 station. The stars blurred as the _Arrow_ entered hyperspace, and Kylo allowed himself a breath. He wanted to know what had happened, but he was annoyed that he didn’t have Hux to himself, and that he now had two more First Order deserters to bring back to his mother. She wasn’t going to like it.

With reluctance, he pried himself out of the seat and returned to the lounge. He found Hux on his knees on the floor, wiping up the mess of glass and liquor Kylo had left. Phasma and FN-2187 were watching him, seemingly in confusion.

“Let me do that,” Kylo said. “You should rest.”

Hux glanced up, but then went back to his work. “What happened?”

“I was in a hurry,” Kylo replied. “You came back.”

Hux got to his feet, holding a pile of glass shards in his hand. Kylo took them from him and dropped them into the compactor. The towel Hux had been cleaning with he threw into the sink. Despite their audience, Kylo slipped his arm around Hux’s waist and kissed him softly.

“Thank you,” he said against his lips.

Hux bumped his nose against Kylo’s. “I missed you. All I wanted to do was get back to you.”

Kylo’s chest filled with warm affection. “Did they do anything to you? Are you whole?”

“I am,” Hux said. “They didn’t abuse me.”

“Good,” said Kylo after another brief kiss. “I would kill them myself if they hurt you.”

Hux stroked his cheek, where a day’s growth of beard had come in. “They would have begged for their lives when they saw you with your saber. You’re terrifying.”

Kylo held his gaze, intent. “Don’t take that kind of risk again. I can’t protect you when you’re away from me.”

“I can’t always be,” Hux said. “But I’ll take care when I am.”

Sighing, Kylo rested his forehead against Hux’s. “Tell me what happened?”

“Come sit, and I will.” Holding his hand, Hux drew him down onto the lounge seat, sitting between him and Phasma.

The former captain and FN-2187 had demurely looked away while Kylo and Hux had held each other, but they turned their attention back to them now, ready to listen to Hux recount his story.

It began in Utel City, where he had been held for several hours before being transported to the _Finalizer_. It was there he met Phasma and was brought before General Brendol Hux II himself.

“You told him you were his brother?” Kylo asked, taken back. “Why?”

Hux shrugged. “Why not? What could the harm be? He had no control over me anymore. Let him know our father for the monster he is.”

Kylo could understand that. “You know where your father is now.”

“Yes,” said Hux. “On this Starkiller base. I intend to find him there.”

“The Supreme Leader is there, too,” Phasma said. “He had a super destroyer where he hid before, but now the base is his domain.”

Kylo turned sharply to face her. “You mean Snoke?”

“Yes,” she replied. “How do you know his name? Few in the Order do, let alone outside of it.”

“We have a history,” Kylo said, unwilling to give any other details.

The knowledge raced around in his mind. If he knew where Snoke was, he might have the opportunity to put an end of his schemes once and for all. If Kylo killed him, he would be gone from his head and the First Order would be leaderless. But he doubted he could do it alone. Snoke was one of the most powerful Force-sensitive beings in the galaxy, if he could reach across the stars without a Force bond to push his way into Kylo’s mind. To even stand a chance against him, Kylo would need Luke, maybe even Rey and the other apprentices to help him. When they got back to D’Qar he could reach out to them.

Phasma cocked a blond brow at him but didn’t press to know more. Hux eyed Kylo, likely guessing what he was considering. He, too, said nothing about it.

Hux continued, telling Kylo how he had subdued his brother and taken the information from the console with his clearance. Phasma came back into it then, offering to help Hux escape if he took her to the Resistance.

“Why do you want to join them?” Kylo asked. “Why not just leave the Order and disappear?”

“Perhaps after I offer my insights to the Resistance, I can,” Phasma replied. “Start a new life, if I can manage it.”

Kylo looked to FN-2187. “What about you?”

“I just wanted out,” the trooper confessed. “I’ll go to the Resistance if you take me, but I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“A pacifist, then?” Kylo said.

“Is there something the matter with wanting to live in peace?” he asked.

“No,” said Kylo. “It’s what we all want.”

Hux told him how they commandeered the escape pod and the rest Kylo knew.

“It’s was luck and timing that saved you,” Kylo managed to say, reaching out for Hux again. “If it hadn’t gone like this, you might have been reconditioned. Or whatever your brother had planned for you.”

“I would have found a way out,” said Hux. “This is where I want to be now.”

Phasma regarded them critically. To Hux: “You said you owed him your life. You didn’t say you were in love with him.”

Kylo’s heart jumped. Those exact words had never been used, and he was sure it was too soon to even consider them. But he saw that Hux’s face was red.

“Given the choice,” Hux said, “I wanted this. I prefer this life.”

“It’s something a trooper never imagines for himself,” said FN-2187 with a hesitant smile. “You’re lucky to have found that, HX.”

“Don’t call him that,” Kylo snapped. “He’s Hux.”

Hux soothed him with a touch. “How long is the flight back to the station?” he asked.

“Two more hours maybe,” Kylo replied. “Are you hungry? Any of you?”

“We should have something,” said Hux. “And maybe a stiff drink.”

Kylo huffed. “I can do that.”

He saw to it that rations were heated and distributed, Hux helping him in the galley. It encumbered them as they worked, but Kylo couldn’t keep from touching him: just little brushes at his back, a hand over his hair, a passing kiss. Hux didn’t seem to mind. They drained the bottle of liquor, FN-2187 coughing and sputtering upon tasting it.

“What is this?” he asked, scowling down at his glass.

“Just drink it,” said Hux. “It’ll steady you.”

He did as he was told and choked the liquor down. His reaction wasn’t unlike Hux’s had been, and it made Kylo smile. FN-2187 was far more skittish than Hux had been, staying close to Phasma and watching Kylo with caution. There wasn’t much Kylo could do to put him at ease—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to—so he let the young trooper be.

Phasma was cool-headed and serene, but Kylo had no doubt she was lethal. He wished he had something for her to change into, putting her armor aside. Maybe she would fit into his clothes, but she likely wouldn’t appreciate it if he offered them.

Kylo hated to see Hux in the standard issue fatigues; he wanted him in the soft shirts and trousers he had bought for him at Tyrish’s. If he was being honest, he wanted Hux in nothing at all, but that would unfortunately have to wait.

Phasma and FN-2187 ate their rations dutifully, Kylo and Hux picking at theirs. Conversation didn’t come easily, the four of them spending more time staring at the floor than looking at each other. Still, Hux sat close to Kylo, his skinny thigh against Kylo’s. As Kylo set his half-eaten rations aside, he laid a hand over Hux’s knee.

When the proximity alert sounded, Kylo all but jumped to his feet, excusing himself to the cockpit. Hux remained in the lounge, keeping watch of Phasma and FN-2187. Kylo guided the _Arrow_ out of hyperspace with practiced ease just as Ryden 2 came into sight. The station glinted just inside the planet’s orbit, marking Kylo’s flight path. He flew the freighter toward it, inputting the access codes to open the hangar bay door.

The station wasn’t designed for prisoners any more than the _Arrow_ was. Kylo had no other choice than to offer the defectors standard quarters aboard. He met them in the lounge again, gesturing for them to follow him.

“You’ll be here,” he said to Phasma as he pushed the button to open the door to one of the small spaces in the residences. The cot was neatly made, the shelves empty. She had a refresher of her own. “I can’t lock you in, but I’ll confine you to quarters.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

FN-2187 looked around at his own quarters in awe. Like Hux, he must never have had a space of his own. Kylo left him there, shutting the door behind him. He stood in the passage, hoping he wasn’t making a tremendous mistake in bringing them here. He could have gone straight to D’Qar, where they could be imprisoned, but it would have been a longer journey and he wasn’t quite ready to face his mother just yet.

“Kylo,” Hux said quietly from beside him. “Are you all right?”

Called back to the present, concern for what was to come fading, Kylo turned around and looked hard at him. Despite what he had faced, he didn’t seem half as tired as Kylo was. But Kylo put that aside, suddenly aware that they were finally alone. He took Hux by the waist with his prosthetic hand, yanking him in. He growled in his ear, “I want you.”

“Yes,” Hux murmured. “Yes.”

They half stumbled their way to Kylo’s quarters, Kylo still holding him tightly and kissing all the exposed skin he could reach. Frenzy was rising in him, all the fear and then pure relief at seeing Hux alive transitioning into yearning to give himself over to him. As they got inside and the door slid closed behind them, Kylo knew what he needed.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said. “Now. Hard. I could have lost you, and I need it.” Shaking hands going to the buttons of his jacket, he got each one free and then threw the jacket aside. When Hux stood still, just watching him, Kylo pled, “Hux, please.”

 In an instant, Hux was across the room, frantically unfastening Kylo’s trousers, pushing them over his hips. They kissed messily as he did, all teeth and tongue. Kylo was ravenous for him, and he would have been on his knees begging Hux to get inside him if he didn’t already seem to be willing to give that to him.

Kylo’s trousers and shorts were shoved down his legs, though he couldn’t take them off over his boots. He didn’t care; he didn’t need to be bare to do this. He turned toward the viewport, bracing his hands against the transparisteel as he offered himself.

“Lubricant,” Hux mumbled against the nape of Kylo’s neck as he kissed him there. He was already tracing the cleft of Kylo’s ass, pushing his fingers in to touch his entrance.

Kylo expelled a hard breath as Hux pressed the tip of his index finger inside him. Unwilling to move from the spot, he reached out with the Force for the bedside table and pulled the little bottle standing there to him. It landed in his palm and he pushed it into Hux’s.

“Go fast,” he said. “I don’t want to wait.”

The lid of the bottle popped open and seconds later Hux’s wet fingers were sliding into him, two to start. The stretch was just this side of too much, but Hux kept on while he kissed Kylo’s neck and jaw, sucking bruises there. Kylo relaxed his body with the ease of practice and Hux soon had a third finger inside of him.

“Now,” Kylo said. “I’m ready.”

In the reflection in the viewport, he watched Hux untuck his shirt and then open the fly of his trousers. He didn’t bother to get them much farther down before he was slicking his cock and lining himself up. Kylo leaned his head against the viewport, fogging it with his breath, as Hux pushed into him.

“ _Stars_ ,” Hux groaned when he was fully seated. Kylo clenched around him and he cried out. “Too much.”

“It’s never too much,” Kylo said. “Go on. Please.”

Hux took hold of his hips and withdrew before driving hard back in. Kylo hit the viewport with the force of it, relishing being handled roughly. Hux’s fingers dug into the crests of his hip bones as he sped his pace.

“I thought I might never have this again,” he said. “Never feel you around me. Never hear you cry out as you come. It wasn’t enough before. I don’t know if it will ever be enough.”

Kylo pushed back onto his cock, taking him as deep as he could. Hux grunted with each thrust, mercilessly taking what Kylo gave. Kylo cursed and mumbled his name against the transparisteel. Ryden 2 spun outside of it, its surface bright in the light of system’s sun.

When Hux came, he clutched at Kylo’s chest, holding himself against his back as his body jerked with each wave. Kylo felt the heat of him inside and trembled. He was hard enough to ache and knew that it would take only a few strokes for him to reach his peak. He hissed as Hux pulled out.

“Turn around,” Hux bid him, and he did.

Hux gave him a deep kiss before sinking to his knees in front of Kylo, face tipped up. “Finish,” he said.

The implication was clear, and immediately Kylo had his hand around his cock, pushing himself toward the edge. Hux looked up at him, eyes alight and lips parted, waiting. He was still mostly dressed, his shirt just open at the collar. There was a mark at the side of his neck, the mark of Kylo’s mouth. With his free hand, Kylo cupped Hux’s cheek and Hux blinked, just the once. Kylo came then, across Hux’s face, from his chin to his brows. Hux watched him through it, until Kylo slumped forward, spent.

Hux stayed where he was for a few moments, but then lifted his shirt to clean his face. Stunned he had let him do it, Kylo knelt too, and kissed him.

“Shower?” Kylo asked.

Hux hummed and nodded.

Still confined by their clothes, they awkwardly got to their feet and removed the rest of them. Both naked, they went into the refresher and Kylo turned on the hot water.

“Did you get the data to the Resistance?” Hux asked as Kylo rubbed his soapy shoulders.

“I did,” Kylo replied.

“Are we going there tomorrow?”

“Yes. You don’t have to go.”

Hux gave him a half-smile. “I go where you go.”

Kylo sighed, touching his cheek. “I’m a damn lucky man, to have you.”

“I know,” said Hux.

Kylo laughed and pulled him into his arms.


	11. Kylo

Something has changed. There are no dark images paired with the voice when it comes now. The towering knight called Ren is gone, and his acolytes are absent, too. There’s no boy to hear the cajoling whispers, no insistent invitations to take what is rightfully his. Instead, there is blackness and silence. Ben Solo never saw this in his mind; this is for Kylo.

He’s half aware of where he lies: in his own bed on the Ryden 2 station, with a warm body pressed against his. Hux. The dark presence in his consciousness hisses and burns with displeasure at the thought of him.

“What do you want, Snoke?” Kylo says into the darkness. “I know you’re there.”

The voice replies in angry snarls: “You foolish, ungrateful creature. You’ve allied yourself with a traitor, a snake who draws you away from your true destiny. You’re giving up all I can teach you, the power you could wield. And for what? A turncoat who treats his allegiances so flippantly that he can change sides without a thought. He’ll betray you, too, someday.”

Kylo’s scorn comes off him in waves. “You already know what he took from you, don’t you? I know where you are, if not _what_. If I come to you, it’ll be only to cut you down.”

The void around him seems to contract, and the pain starts, splitting his head and radiating through his body. Kylo tries to shrink from it, but it persists, unrelenting.

“You could have _everything_ , Ren,” Snoke says in those familiar, liquid tones that, once upon a time, almost seduced Ben Solo. “I can hand you the galaxy, and yet you spurn such a gift for the sake of a quisling stormtrooper. It’s _weak_. It’s _pathetic._ See reason, Ren, and seek your destiny.” A pause, and then: “This is your final chance.”

Kylo gets a taste of relief despite the pain that suffuses him. Maybe, after all, he’s beaten Snoke, if only reject his offer. Facing him in the flesh will be another matter entirely.

“You won’t stand a chance against me, you stupid boy,” Snoke growls, increasing the stabbing into Kylo’s mind. “I will not hesitate to destroy you.”

“I’m not coming alone,” Kylo forces out, fighting to keep from crumpling to his knees. “It will be you against those you tried to draw me from. We’re enough to face whatever strength you have.”

Snoke barks a cruel laugh, and it’s accompanied by another twisting spasm of pain. Kylo cries out. “Bring your lover,” says Snoke. “Bring your New Jedi, but you’ll not defeat me. You have a fraction of my power—power you could have had for yourself. You come to your death if you seek me out.”

Kylo is in agony, and part of him fears that the monster is right. If Snoke can reach across the galaxy to rend his mind like this, he can’t imagine what else he’s capable of. But he pushes back against the onslaught, managing to say, “I’d rather be dead than turn to the dark side.”

“Then die,” Snoke says. The pain arcs through Kylo again, straining his body and making him scream.

In the distance: “Kylo!” There are hands on him, a determined but gentle touch. “Kylo, wake up!”

“Die,” he hears once more, but his vision fills with light and the pain abates.

 

* * *

 

Kylo woke with a cry, jerking up against Hux’s hold on his shoulders. He was shaking and cold, his hair falling all around his face. His breath was coming up short as the vestiges of the pain faded. It was all in his head, but it had been agony. Blinking, he tried to get his bearings. He felt it as Hux raised a hand to his brow, brushing away his damp hair.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Hux asked. “You were thrashing and calling out.”

Kylo’s eyes focused on him gradually, and he saw that he was wide awake, his concern apparent. “It was Snoke,” Kylo said. “I told you he gets into my head. He came for a visit.”

Hux frowned deeply. “He hurts you.”

“He never has before, but this time he was furious. He knows we have his location.” Kylo started to sit up and Hux put a pillow behind his back to rest on. Hux shifted until he was sitting across from him, legs folded underneath himself. Kylo set a shaking hand on his thigh.“He knows about you, too.”

Hux raised his brows, but said, without surprise, “I suppose it’s not that unbelievable. I’m sure my brother has reported to him by now that I stole the Starkiller data and escaped.” He smiled grimly. “I’m sure Bren was not pleased when he came to. Whatever fledgling kinship he might have felt for me, it’s gone.”

Kylo hummed, but his thoughts weren’t on General Hux. He still dwelled on Snoke’s warning, and the incredible show of his power. He would need all the help he could get to defeat him, to find Luke and Rey, especially. He had a feeling that the knights Snoke had sent to kidnap Ben as a boy would be there with him, and they were formidable.

“Did you tell your mother about Snoke?” Hux asked.

“I didn’t get to it,” Kylo replied. “The mission took priority. When we get back today, I’ll tell her; she’ll want to know.” He lifted his arm, patting the space next to him. “Come here.”

Hux went, tucking himself against Kylo’s side. He kissed Kylo’s shoulder where the flesh met the metal of his prosthetic. It was time Kylo took it off to do some work on it, regular service. He was still conscious of removing it around Hux and letting him see what was missing, but he knew it would have to happen sooner or later.

“Thank you for waking me up,” Kylo said, stroking Hux’s upper arm.

“It wasn’t easy to watch,” said Hux. “You were suffering. I had to stop that.”

Kylo smiled one-sidedly. “You’re good to me.” He kissed Hux. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Mm, yes,” Hux said. “I like it here, with you.”

“Me, too.” He nestled Hux close, nuzzling his hair. “We should get ready. We have Phasma and FN-2187 to deal with.” He frowned. “Do we have to call him that?”

“If he was put into the Program as a baby, he has no other name. But he can find one, I’ve no doubt.”

“Not like Armitage Hux,” Kylo said. “It’s a good name. Suits you.”

Hux huffed. “It’s well enough.” Pressing up and away, he said, “Shall we clean up?”

Kylo nodded and rolled out of bed, waking naked to the refresher. Hux turned on the water while Kylo looked at himself in the mirror. Carefully, he disengaged the connection with his prosthetic—it clicked out from the socket that had been installed to simulate a joint—and lifted it away. He set it to the side, turning hesitantly toward Hux.

Hux was watching him, and his gaze went to Kylo’s shoulder, but he didn’t seem put off. Instead, he held out his hand, inviting Kylo to come into the shower with him. Kylo did, stepping under the wash of warm water.

“May I touch you?” Hux asked, his hair dark and soaked. Kylo nodded, and Hux laid his hands over Kylo’s scars, where the skin had knit back together in puckered pink. Hux explored them with soft, steady fingertips. Kylo tried not to look, instead closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling. He shuddered when Hux began to kiss the shoulder, over the scars.

“You don’t have to do that,” Kylo said quietly. “I know it’s not pretty.”

“It’s not objectionable,” Hux said against his skin. “It’s a part of you, just like any other.”

Kylo put his left arm around Hux’s waist, so grateful—relieved—but he said, “I hate showing it.”

Hux planted another kiss at the apex of his shoulder. “I can tell, but you don’t have to hide from me. There’s nothing lacking in you.”

Kylo sighed, letting his head rest on Hux’s shoulder. How he had found this kind of partner, he would never know. Dumb luck.

Hux continued to touch his shoulder around the socket, his lips pressed where it met flesh. Kylo held him close, enjoying the slickness of his skin under his left hand. He was still uncomfortably exposed, but he would get used to it in time.

When Hux moved away, it was to retrieve the soap. He lathered his hands and put them on Kylo, washing him up. He cleaned his chest and under his arm, between Kylo’s legs and up to his cleft. They hadn’t come together again after that first, urgent time last night. In the aftermath, they had just fallen into bed and each other’s arms, utterly exhausted—Kylo from worry and Hux from exertion. Kylo had slept deeply until the dream.

This was the their brief respite before the chaos of what was to come when they got back to D’Qar. They would have their defectors to contend with, but also Leia and whatever plans she would be laying with the Starkiller intelligence Hux had stolen. And there were Luke and Rey, too. Kylo had the impression that he and Hux wouldn’t have a quiet moment for some time to come.

“Did you learn about your father?” Kylo asked as Hux continued to wash him. “Do you know where he is?”

“Yes,” Hux replied. “He’s on Starkiller base, overseeing training operations.”

Kylo caught his hand, stilling it on his chest. “Are you going to kill him?”

Hux had said before that when he had paid his life debt to Kylo—which he now had—he would seek out his father and end him. Perhaps that was his goal, now.

“I am,” said Hux resolutely.

“The Resistance will likely be going there,” Kylo said. “I’m not sure when—we’ll need to talk to Leia—but we will. You could go with us, have someone covering your back.”

Hux shook his head. “I won’t bring anyone else into this. If I go, I go alone.”

Kylo brushed a hand over his wet hair, making it stick up in pointed clumps. “I understand. I’ll have my own task when we’re there.”

“Snoke,” Hux said.

Kylo nodded. “He said he’ll kill me. It’s very possible he might. I don’t really know what I’m walking into. But I know I have to.”

Hux regarded him intently. “I know. And it’s possible I might not come back, either. My father could have enough security to put me down before I even reach him. I can only hope that his location is denoted in the plans I took. If not, I won’t know where to find him. And I’m sure we won’t have much time on the base to scout.”

“Probably not,” said Kylo. He could imagine the Resistance’s goal would be to get onto the base and find a way to destroy it without delay. “That’s against your training, huh?”

“Yes,” Hux replied, “but I’ll make do with whatever opportunity I have.”

Kylo could respect that. Curious, he asked, “Why didn’t you kill your brother when you had the chance? You said once that you might, if it came down to it.”

Hux averted his eyes, licking the water from his lips. “He’s different than I expected. Not as unfeeling as our father. I don’t trust or admire him for what he’s done in the Order, but he’s my blood. In the end, I spared him for that.” He huffed. “Grossly sentimental.”

“It isn’t,” Kylo said, touching his cheek. “You didn’t have a grudge against him for rising through the ranks. You weren’t jealous of him; you didn’t hate him. I would have done the same thing, I think.”

Not that he had any siblings. But if he had had to face that situation with Rey or another of the padawans he had grown up beside, he wasn’t certain he had it in him to cut them down. And there was certainly no way he could kill his father.

“You’re a good man, Kylo,” Hux said. “I’m afraid I’m not.”

“You are,” Kylo insisted. “There are all kinds of good in the galaxy.” He chuckled. “Objectively, I’m not very good, either. No-good smuggler who’s killed before.”

“I suppose that makes me your accomplice,” Hux said, sliding his arms around Kylo’s waist. “What a pair of scoundrels we make.”

Kylo kissed him, delighted.

They finished bathing and shared a towel to dry off. Hux combed his hair, Kylo running the comb through his after. Hux hadn’t brought clothes with him from his own quarters, so, with the towel around his waist, he went to find some. Kylo dressed quickly in black trousers and his boots, a red shirt under a vest.

Presumably, Phasma and FN-2187 hadn’t left their rooms overnight, and Kylo went to the first of them now, knocking on the durasteel door before he pressed the button to open it. Phasma was just inside, wearing the base layer she wore under her armor; it was black and similar to one Hux had worn under his on the day Kylo had brought him to the station. Her silver armor lay to the side in a neat pile.

“Good morning,” Kylo said. She nodded, unspeaking, so he continued, “You, uh, you don’t have to put the rest of that back on if you don’t want to, but I’ll get something for us for breakfast. You drink caf?”

“I do,” she replied curtly.

“Right,” said Kylo. “Well, come on out when you’re ready. I’m just going to get FN.”

He left her there, heading to FN-2187’s room and repeating the same message. The young man perked up at the mention of food. Already dressed in his fatigues, he followed Kylo into the kitchen. Kylo and Hux had stocked up on more chocolate cake ration bars, so Kylo retrieved one of those and handed it to him.

“Enjoy,” Kylo said.

Hux appeared a minute or so later, wearing an elegantly embroidered shirt over brown trousers. Tyrish would have appreciated it. He accepted a cup of caf from Kylo and leaned against the counter to watch FN-2187, who was relishing the ration bar as he once had. Kylo grabbed another and gave it to him with a smile. Hux returned it. When Phasma came out, she was fully armored, save for her helmet. Hux tensed somewhat in her presence, clearly used to being under her command.

“So,” Kylo began, “here’s what we’re looking at. We’re going to the Resistance’s main base. I don’t have any idea what they’re going to do with you two, but it’s not going to be simple. You’re going to have to do what you’re told.”

“They’ll imprison us,” Phasma said.

“I don’t know that,” said Kylo. “They didn’t take Hux, but his case was different. He’s my crew, and he had a debt. You two are...not that.”

“We’ll take whatever comes,” she said solemnly.

FN-2187 asked, “Do you think they’d”—he swallowed—“execute us?”

“No,” Kylo replied. “They’re not like that.”

Phasma took a ration bar of her own and ate it in silence, accepting a cup of caf as well. She seemed at ease despite the unusual situation, at least far more than FN-2187, who shifted his weight between his feet, his gaze darting around the living quarters. Kylo didn’t blame him for being wary; he was completely at Kylo’s—and he supposed Hux’s—mercy.

When they were finished with breakfast, Kylo ushered the group into the hangar, where the _Arrow_ was waiting. Phasma and FN-2187 lingered in the lounge at Hux’s request while Kylo went to the cockpit. Before he engaged the engines, he opened up a comm frequency to D’Qar. It was unsecured, but they had a code for communications like this. He didn’t bother to speak, only recording a series of taps and clicks from the console. He gave them their planned course and arrival time. The course wouldn’t be plotted by hand—as he liked to do on his jobs—but he could accept that for now. Closing the frequency, he reached for the ignition switches and brought the _Arrow_ to life.

He locked down the station as they left the hangar bay, navigating into the starry sky beyond. The freighter flew smoothly out of Ryden’s orbit, and Kylo entered the course into the computer before engaging the hyperdrive. The stars streaked as the ship rocketed forward, on its way to D’Qar.

In the lounge, Kylo found Hux and FN-2187 playing holochess while Phasma watched. She looked startlingly out of place in the cozy interior of the ship: chrome and dangerous. Kylo went to the seat beside her, putting his hands on his knees.

“Mind if I ask you something?” he said.

She blinked at him slowly. “I’ll answer if I can.”

“Fair enough,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Why is it that you have a name and FN there doesn’t?”

“I was recruited as an adult,” Phasma replied. “I already had a name, and I was allowed to keep it. And I rank higher than him. Significantly.”

“I see,” Kylo said. “Where do you come from, then? Your homeworld?”

“Parnassos. Nothing there but a bunch of squabbling tribes out for resources and credits. I was one of them until the First Order came along. It was my ticket off-planet.” She shot a glance at the chess players. “It was Brendol Hux who found me.”

Hux snapped around to face her. “ _What_?”

She remained impassive. “His ship crashed on Parnassos near where I was scouting, shot down by our automatic defense system. He said he was looking for fighters, so I signed on. I trained with him for the first few months.”

Hux stared at her in open astonishment. “You knew my father?”

“I still know him,” she said. “My training regimen for my troopers is based off of his model. He’s an exemplary officer.”

“Yes,” Hux hissed. “But does he actually care a whit about the lives of his soldiers? If he treats them anything like his children, he doesn’t.”

Phasma shrugged. “He works hard to hone them into the best fighting force in the galaxy. Whether or not he cares about them is not my concern.”

Kylo asked, “If you’re so impressed with the Order’s military, why did you decide to leave? You didn’t give me a straight answer yesterday.”

She hesitated, seemingly uncertain, but then replied, “It’s what they want to do with the Starkiller device.”

Kylo moved forward, rapt. “You know what it does.”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s an interplanetary weapon. It can destroy more than one world from across the galaxy. The Supreme Leader plans to use it to destroy to the New Republic completely, wipe out the entire Hosnian system.”

 Kylo recoiled. “It can do that? All the worlds in the system?”

Phasma gave a single, cold nod. “And it’s nearly finished. It won’t be long before it’s deployed.”

Both Hux and FN-2187 had forgotten their game now, their attention completely on Phasma. Kylo could barely conceptualize a weapon powerful enough wipe an entire system off the map. The Death Star had been frightening enough; this was incomprehensible.

“How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know that,” said Phasma. “But it’s soon. Your stealing the data might be able to prevent that kind of holocaust, but we have to move fast.”

“What else do you know?” Kylo demanded.

“Not much,” she said. “But I know the layout of the training areas of the base. Some of the command center. It was still under construction when I was there last. I’ll offer anything I can, of course.”

Hux asked, “What do you know about where my father is?”

“I know exactly where he’ll be,” she replied.

Kylo watched Hux’s expression shift from questioning to predatory, and Hux said, “Tell me everything.”

She leaned back against the couch, the corner of her mouth turning up. “In due time, HX.”

Hux scowled, but Kylo caught his eye. _Easy. It’s all right._ Hux backed down a little, but looked just as determined. He’d have his revenge on his father, that much was certain.

“We have a great deal of time before we get to D’Qar,” Kylo said, “but we should save the briefing for General Organa.”

“We’ll get to meet _her_?” asked FN-2187. “She’s way too important for the likes of us, isn’t she?”

“No,” Hux replied. “With the kind of information Phasma has, she’ll likely want to see all of us.” He looked to Kylo. “She was willing to listen to me. She’ll hear you out.”

Kylo smiled at Hux. “I think she might actually like you,” he said.

Hux shook his head. “Even if she doesn’t, I’m not leaving you.” More soberly: “That is, if we come back from Starkiller in one piece.”

Kylo couldn’t argue, so he didn’t bother. They would be going into danger no matter what. He would find Snoke and kill him, and Hux his father. They would have to take these tasks on alone, too, but, with hope, they would be reunited after it all.

 

* * *

 

Leia, Admiral Holdo, and several of the other Resistance generals were waiting to receive the _Arrow_ when Kylo landed it at the base on D’Qar. Kylo bid Hux hang back with Phasma and FN-2187, but they were not overlooked when they came down the loading ramp onto solid ground.

“Ben,” Leia said as she embraced him. “It’s good to see you back in one piece. You managed to pull this job off. The Resistance is indebted to you.”

“Not to me,” said Kylo.

Leia’s gaze turned to Hux, and she inclined her head. “Welcome back, Hux. And you’re not alone.”

Hux said, “No. These are First Order troopers who would seek asylum with the Resistance.”

Murmurs of surprise made the rounds of the gathered officials. Leia’s expression remained unchanged, but she said, “Defectors, not prisoners?”

“We have information to offer,” said Phasma boldly. “In exchange for asylum.”

Leia’s brows rose at that, and Holdo leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Kylo frowned, expecting the worst.

“For now we’ll grant you the right to stay here,” Leia said, “but I can’t guarantee more than that.” She gestured to a soldier to her left. “Enara will see you to holding. You can give your information there and we’ll decide what to do with you.”

“Understood,” Phasma said. She held out her hands. “We surrender.”

Three soldiers came forward, blasters drawn, to escort them away. Kylo watched them go, until they disappeared around the corner of the nearest building. When they were gone, the Resistance delegation’s attention turned to him and Hux.

“Have you been looking at the data Hux sent?” Kylo asked. “We don’t have a lot of time before the First Order plans to use the weapon.”

Holdo looked hard at him. “We’ve barely scratched the surface, but you know about their timeline?”

“We have an idea,” Kylo replied. “This isn’t something that can wait. I’d offer to help go through the data, but you’ve got better people than me to take care of that. But the Supreme Leader of the Order is on that Starkiller planet, and I need to see Uncle Luke and Rey.”

“You’re certain?” said Holdo.

Kylo nodded grimly.

“What do Luke and Rey have to do with that?” Leia asked.

“It’ll take some explaining,” Kylo said. It had been a long time since he had spoken to his mother about his dreams of Snoke, and it wasn’t something he was about to tell half the Resistance leadership. “I should talk with you alone. But I need to get that message to Luke right away. I’m going to need his help.”

“All right,” she said. “Come with me.” She raised a brow at Hux. “And you?”

“I don’t need to come along,” he said. “If you have another use for me…”

Leia chuckled. “I’m sure Tether’s sharpshooters would be glad to see you. Can you find your way by yourself?”

“Yes.” He started in the direction of the firing range, but Kylo caught him before he could get far.

Kylo pulled him in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll find you when I’m done,” he said, and then he let him go.

“He did a good thing for us,” Leia said. “I won’t forget it.”

“I won’t let you,” said Kylo. “All right, let’s go to the comms.”

The delegation dispersed, leaving the two of them to head into Leia’s private office. She closed the door behind them, rounding on Kylo.

“What is so important that you need to reach Luke?”

Kylo took a breath, looking for a way to start. “You remember my dreams, from when I was a kid? I found out who was seeking me…” He told her as simply as possible, and by the time he was finished, she was agog.

“A Force-sensitive being in control of the First Order?” she said. “This is far worse than we thought.” She went to her console and keyed in the secret codes to reach her brother. The console lit up to record, and she began: “Luke, I have a message for you from Ben. It’s of the utmost importance. Please hear him out.” She gestured to Kylo to come closer.

“Hi, Uncle Luke,” said Kylo. “I’ll try to keep this as short as possible, but I need you and Rey to come to D’Qar. I’ve learned who Snoke is. He leads the First Order, and I’m going to take him down. But I can’t do it alone. Please come. Snoke is unlike anything I’ve ever known. I can tell you more when you get here. That’s it.” He ended the transmission there, and it blinked as it sent.

“As long as he’s not away, he should get back to us within the day,” Leia said. She rubbed her brow. “This is a whole lot more complicated than I expected. I saw us taking on a single project, not trying to topple the leader of the First Order. I’m going to have to rethink all of our plans. We’re going to need every fighter we can find.”

“Open war?” Kylo asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I have to confer with the others. We need a plan, and soon.” She sighed. “We owe Hux more than we can repay.”

“He doesn’t expect payment,” Kylo said. “He just wants to stay on with me. And...he needs to get to Starkiller, too. He has unfinished business there.”

“I won’t ask,” said Leia. “But if we can help him get where he needs to go, we will.” She fell back against her desk, leaning there. “I don’t know if we’re ready for this, Ben.”

He touched her shoulder. “We have to be.” He paused, but then asked, “What happened with the intelligence Hux gave the First Order? Have the ships been attacked? The base on Errod?”

Leia looked down, the lines around her mouth deepening as she frowned. “They hit Errod hard. We lost people. The ships were better armed and made it out.”

Kylo stayed silent for a beat in their honor. “I’m sorry.”

“It needed to be done,” she said. “They knew what they were getting into when they volunteered to stay. They’ll be honored in a ceremony tonight. I hope you’ll come.”

“Of course,” said Kylo. He pressed his lips together, but couldn’t hold back the question: “What will you do with the defectors?”

Leia closed her eyes, a rare show of tiredness. “Allow them to give their information and if it’s valuable, act on it, but after that, I don’t know. We can’t assimilate them into the Resistance army, but I would assume they have no other skills to offer.”

“They might just go,” said Kylo. “We could give them some credits and drop them on a discreet planet.” He rubbed his chin. “I could take them to Ryden 2. They could find work in one of the mining militias, maybe.”

“We’ll deal with that when we need to,” Leia said. “For now we can just keep them locked up.” She sighed. “The boy...he’s so young. Surely no older than Rey. I can’t imagine what kind of life he’s led.”

Kylo couldn’t help but think of Hux’s wonder at the world outside the First Order. He could imagine that FN-2187 would feel the same way as he acclimated to it. Phasma already knew it and Kylo reckoned she would assimilate better and faster.

“Treat him gently,” Kylo said, “and he’ll do anything you ask.”

Leia raised a brow. “You mean Hux. I can’t say I wholly condone what you’re doing with him, Ben.”

“Keeping him on as a crewmate or being his lover?” Kylo asked, blunt.

“Would you hate it if I said both?” Leia said. “I’m having a hard time trusting him with my son, whether with your business or your heart.”

Kylo gave her a small smile. “I don’t hate it. I understand. But he’s chosen me, and I’m going to keep him as long as he’ll allow it.”

Leia reached out and took one of Kylo’s hands between her small ones. “In the end, what matters most to me is that you’re whole, healthy, and happy. If he can give you that, I have to accept it.”

“Thank you, Mother,” said Kylo, squeezing her fingers. She looked up at him with a parent’s fondness and Kylo leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Will you show me the Starkiller data? I’d like to see what we’re contending with.”

She nodded. “Come with me.”

A full complement of Resistance intelligence operatives were bent over consoles in the command center. There were wires crisscrossing the floors, the mark of extra consoles having been carted in for use here. Nobody looked up or bothered to salute as Leia walked in; it was a formality she didn’t require. She led Kylo to the central display, where a small planet was shown in a blue hologram over the projector. It was the same image Kylo had seen before, but as Leia keyed in a command, the planet exploded to show a view of its constituent parts.

From what he could see, there was a massive mechanical apparatus in the mantel rather than living quarters. It wasn’t a space station, like the Death Star had been, but hollowed out to show a black core marked “Energy Conduits.” Kylo studied them, though he had no idea what to make of it.

“It’s some kind of energy weapon,” Leia said, pointing to the label Kylo had just read. “It draws on a solar source to power it and then stores the energy inside until it’s ready to be fired. From what the engineers tell me, it’s equipped with massive kyber-focused lasers that could propel the energy millions of lightyears. Chief Engineer Raydal would be in awe, if he wasn’t so terrified. The destructive potential of this thing is frightening.”

Kylo rotated the exploded view until he could make out the residential levels below ground. There were numerous transport tunnels, bays for landing shuttles, and a small barracks for the security force that Phasma had said Hux’s father Brendol was in charge of. It wasn’t a large operation; it seemed that there was not much more than a skeleton crew to manage the planet.

“This isn’t a heavily fortified base,” he said. “I don’t think they’re expecting an attack.”

“I agree,” said Leia. “This was meant to be a secret, at least until it was fired for the first time.”

“You know the target is the Hosnian System?”

“I do. It was in the plans. But there’s no timeline for when the weapon will be fired.” She looked to Kylo. “You said soon.”

“That’s what I was told. I believe it’s true.”

Leia sucked her teeth. “Yes, I think so, too. As I said before, we’re going to have to rally everyone and attack as soon as we can.”

Kylo mumbled an assent, but his attention had been drawn to a central chamber attached to the base’s command level. There were private residences just off of it and Kylo knew at once whose they were. He would have to commit this location to memory; it was where he would find Snoke.

Leia continued to share what her lieutenants had gleaned from the stolen data and Kylo listened attentively. The details of the battle plans would be left to her and her other generals, but he wanted to identify the information most relevant to his mission. With hope, Luke would reply to his message soon. He and Leia were still standing by the main console when Admiral Holdo came in, looking for Leia.

“That’s all we know for now, Ben,” Leia said to Kylo. “You don’t need to stay. Why don’t you go get something to eat and some rest?”

Kylo’s stomach was empty after only ration bars for breakfast, so he was quick to agree to lunch. But first he would need to find Hux.

As if she had read his mind, Leia said, “The snipers will have already gone to the mess hall. I think you’ll find your Hux there with them.”

Kylo squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you, Mother.” To Holdo as he left the command center: “Admiral.”

The mess was full of voices when he arrived and it wasn’t difficult to spot Hux among Tether’s marksmen. He had a full tray of food in front of him and he was ripping a piece off of his rationed hunk of dark bread to dip in flavored oil. He chewed, but managed to speak around the bite.

Kylo went to the buffet and accepted a tray of his own. He joined the marksmen at the end of their table. Hux didn’t immediately see him and Kylo could only hear snatches of what he was saying, but he was clearly talking of blaster rifles.

“He’s amazing,” said the flaxen-haired young woman sitting across from Kylo when she caught him watching Hux. “The best sniper I’ve ever seen.” She leaned in closer. “I’ve heard he used to be in the First Order. Do you think it’s true?”

Kylo suppressed a laugh. Apparently not everyone on D’Qar knew about Hux’s origins, and from what Kylo could discern, this girl didn’t recognize Kylo as Leia’s son, either. Maybe she was new.

“I don’t know,” Kylo said. “Hasn’t he told you?”

The girl shook her head. “He hasn’t said a word about where he comes from, but he doesn’t say much aside from explaining how to shoot. He schooled me. I had all the wrong form, he said.” She looked crestfallen. “I had thought I was doing well.”

Kylo, having been shown his own weaknesses by Hux, said, “I’m sure you are. And if you have a good teacher, you’ll only get better.”

“I hope so.” Sticking out her hand, she said, “I’m Yur. I just got here last week. What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve been here a while,” Kylo replied, shaking her hand. “Feels like my whole life. I’m Kylo.” As he said it, he ventured a glance at Hux, who had heard him and turned. Kylo winked, and Hux smiled.

Yur watched it happen curiously, asking Kylo when he turned back, “You know him?”

“I do,” Kylo replied, noting the warmth in his own voice.

The girl picked up on it, too, and one side of her wide mouth turned up. “I see,” she said slyly.

Kylo laughed as he picked up his fork to stab some of the meat on his tray. “That easy to see I’m gone for him, huh?”

She snorted. “You’re not the only one. Everyone in the unit worships him, both girls and boys. But I guess I know which he fancies, now. That’s the only time I’ve seen him smile.” The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement. “You’re together?”

Kylo opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, he heard from behind him, “Yes, we are.” Hux’s hands landed on his shoulders, possessive.

Yur blinked up at him with unconcealed awe.

Kylo turned his face up to see Hux. “Yur here says she didn’t do so well at practice today.”

Hux drummed his fingers lightly against Kylo’s shoulders. “You did better than you think,” he said to Yur. “You’ll make a good sniper, I assure you.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she sighed, cheeks coloring. “Thank you, sir.”

Letting go of Kylo, Hux went to sit beside him, letting Kylo finish his meal. Kylo went about it quickly, while Hux and Yur spoke more of her shooting form. She hung on his every word, and the others around them listened, too. Kylo was impressed at the impact Hux had already had on them.

“All done,” Kylo said as the conversation paused enough for him to get a word in. He picked up his tray. “Come with me?” he asked Hux.

They both rose, each bidding Yur good afternoon. Kylo dropped his tray at the wash station before he and Hux went back out into the heat of the day.

“Those kids look at you like you’re their deity,” Kylo said as he took Hux’s hand.

“I enjoy working with them,” said Hux. “They’ll improve with more work. They—”

“Hey, you two!”

They both looked to see Poe Dameron jogging toward them, his little round droid beside him. He stopped in front of them, grinning.

“I heard you were back,” he said. “Damn good to see you both. Everything went okay. That’s a relief. We were worried about you down here, weren’t we, BB-8?”

The droid babbled in Binary.

“We made it by the skin of our teeth,” Kylo said. “But we made it.”

“I’d love to hear about it,” said Poe, clapping them both on the shoulders. “Can I interest you two in a drink? You can tell me the whole story.”

Kylo looked to Hux, who shrugged.

“Why not?” Hux said.

“That’s the spirit!” said Poe, leading them off toward the lounge, where Kylo had spent a few long nights in the past.

Kylo was sure they would spending quite a bit of time there this afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Luke Skywalker’s reply to Kylo’s message came several hours later, when Kylo and Hux, both pleasantly drunk after celebratory shots of D’Qar’s finest homebrew with Poe, had been lying together in their hut in Sector 12. They were shirtless and Kylo’s trousers were barely hanging on after Hux had opened them to suck his cock a few minutes before. Kylo had been wholeheartedly planning to reciprocate when the knock at the door interrupted them.

“Go on,” said Hux, still sprawled out on his back in bed. “I’ll stay here.” He grabbed Kylo’s balled-up shirt from the ground and tossed it to him.

Kylo went with the aide who had been sent to fetch him to Leia’s office, where she already had the message queued up. A hologram of Luke appeared.

“Leia, Ben,” he began, “by the time this reaches you, Rey and I will be en route to D’Qar. Ben, you were right to call us and not try to face Snoke alone. It’s been too long since you’ve studied the Force for you to survive that. We’ll come and make a plan together. We’ll be arriving by tomorrow D’Qar time. Be prepared to work, Ben.”

The message terminated and Kylo felt his stomach tighten. It had been fourteen years since he had put his Jedi training aside for the sake of the other apprentices—to protect them from Snoke—and he wasn’t anywhere near as keenly honed a weapon as Luke was, or even Rey, who was still an apprentice. He was strong with the Force, but that didn’t make him a master of it, not when he had walked away from that path.

“Are you all right?” Leia asked him.

Kylo rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. It’s just...training with Uncle Luke again.”

She gave a sympathetic hum. “Are you worried you won’t be able to do it?”

“Yes,” he said. “And no. I know I still have my connection to the Force, and I’m as good with my saber as ever, but I’m not a Jedi.”

“I know,” said Leia, “but you have it in you to be, if you wanted to return to that life. Without Snoke, maybe you could.”

There was one sliver of Kylo that was tempted, but he had chosen long ago. And he had Hux, too, to think about. He wasn’t just going to walk away from him. Jedi weren’t permitted deep attachments, and Kylo wouldn’t set Hux aside.

“No,” he said. “I’ll do this, but I have my own life.”

Leia inclined her head. “Of course.”

Kylo had never been able to decide of she had been disappointed or relieved that he hadn’t stayed on to train with Luke after the accident. Ben’s near death had rattled her, that much he knew, but she had never said outright how she felt about his decision to follow in Han’s footsteps rather than Luke’s. The time was past to ask, though; it didn’t make a difference now, when he had already lived nearly half his life outside the New Jedi.

“What?” he asked, realizing she had spoken.

“The ceremony,” she said. “For the lost soldiers on Errod. It’s about to start. Will you come?”

“Oh,” said Kylo. “Yes, sure.”

A hundred or so people were gathered at a standing stone just outside the main command compound. The stone was massive and towered at least five feet above Kylo’s head. He could just make it out, but there were carvings in the face of it near the top. An older man with a laser pen in hand stood on a ladder propped against it, ready to add more names to the list of the fallen.

Leia mounted a dais in the shadow of the stone and the onlookers went quiet. “Today,” she began, “we come here to mourn those of our comrades who have lost their lives fighting for the cause of freedom and justice in the galaxy. The Resistance was created to protect the democracy that was created after the fall of the Empire, a government which attends to the needs of its people rather than keeping them under the thumb of a dictator.”

She folded her hands behind her back, chin lifted, ever the royalty she had once been. “Even though our efforts often go unnoticed or unappreciated, we fight on for the sake of those who cannot defend themselves. These brave beings sacrificed themselves so that we can preserve the peace. We remember each and every one and honor them by putting their names here.” From her pocket, she took a piece of flimsi. “Ibak Oplon,” she read, the first of the names.

She said each one as the laser cut into the stone to mark that soldier. Kylo listened to them, pausing only to consider whether Hux’s name would have been added if he had been lost. He wouldn’t want it, Kylo thought: he wasn’t Resistance; he was Kylo’s.

When the ceremony was over, Kylo left Leia to the mourners and returned to the hut. Hux was in bed, a datapad in his hand as he read. Kylo stopped in the doorway to admire his lean chest and soft belly, his long legs stretched out and feet bare.

“Are you going to stare all evening,” he said, not looking up from the datapad, “or come inside?”

Kylo entered, closing the door behind him. He went to the side of the bed and sat, shoulders hunched.

“Hux,” he said, “if I don’t make it back from Snoke, from Starkiller, what are you going to do?”

The datapad was placed down next to Kylo’s hand as Hux sat up. “I can’t say I haven’t thought of it,” he said. “I like to be prepared for any contingency.”

“Sounds like you,” said Kylo, not without affection.

Hux stroked a hand down his back. “I think I’d like to go to Ryden 2. Take whatever supplies your mother is willing to give me and go find something to do there. I don’t want to join a mercenary band, even if I’m well-suited to it.” He shifted closer, until he could press a soft kiss to Kylo’s neck, just behind his ear. “Once my father is dead, I’m done fighting, unless it’s for you.”

“I won’t ask you to do that,” Kylo said.

“I know,” said Hux. “My life with you will be different, and I want that.” Another kiss. “You’ll survive.”

“Stars, I hope so,” Kylo sighed. He allowed Hux to guide him back onto the bed and Hux straddled his hips, his hands on Kylo’s chest.

“Is your uncle coming here?” Hux asked, undoing Kylo’s belt.

“He is,” Kylo replied. “He and Rey will be here tomorrow.”

He lifted his arms for Hux to push his shirt up and over his head, mussing his hair but baring him for Hux’s appraisal. Hux still looked as if he could devour him whole, something Kylo hoped he’d never stop doing. He loved being wanted so openly and eagerly.

“May I meet them?” Hux said as he splayed his fingers out over Kylo’s stomach, his thumb rubbing the trail of hair under his navel. “I won’t get in your way, but...he’s Luke Skywalker.”

Kylo wiggled his eyebrows. “A fan of his, are you?”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “I’m curious about him. I saw pictures in the books I read, but none of them are current. And there’s this Rey, too…”

“I’ll introduce you,” said Kylo, taking him by the waist and tapping his fingers at his sides. “Looks like you’ll be meeting all of my family and I won’t know any of yours.”

“ _I_ barely know them,” Hux grumbled.

“I know, I know,” Kylo said, tempering. “Luke and Rey are all right. They’re a little serious, but that’s Jedi for you. Duty comes first. It’s not an easy life.”

Hux blinked down at him. “I seems that no life in the galaxy is easy.”

Kylo slid his hands down to Hux’s thighs, rubbing them over his soft trousers. “You haven’t seen the kind of excess of places like Canto Bight: rich beings just gambling away the money their corporations earned while they chose new velvet underwear and gold-inlaid shoes. Those people don’t _do_ anything, really. They just go to casinos and parties and waste time talking about the same nothing they do all day. That life is easy.”

“Would you choose that, if you could?” said Hux.

“ _No_ ,” Kylo quickly replied. “I want to do things with my days. I want to have a purpose.” He asked, “Would you want an easy, lavish life?”

Hux wet his lips. “To me, yours is fairly easy and lavish. You don’t put your life at risk daily, there’s always good food to be had, you live on a station of your own, and you have a ship.” He plucked at his trousers. “We have fine clothes, too.”

Kylo knew he didn’t understand just how fine things could get—Tyrish’s was not a designer boutique on Hosnian Prime—but he allowed him to believe what he said, for now.

“Okay,” Kylo said. “Then I’m glad for my life. I don’t want to change it.”

“Me, too,” said Hux. He leaned down over Kylo to kiss him, their lips parting almost immediately.

Kylo fumbled with the buttons of Hux’s trousers, but couldn’t get far while Hux was bent at the waist. With a grunt, Kylo rolled him over onto his side, dumping him rather unceremoniously off his lap. Hux glared, but when Kylo went for his fly, he didn’t argue further.

 

* * *

 

Kylo’s uncle was an excellent pilot, as his father had been, but he rarely flew the old heap he had used to get around since Ben had been a boy; it was always Rey at the helm, now. She was visible just inside the cockpit of the small transport vessel when it landed on one of the pads by the command center the next morning. Kylo was waiting to greet it, with Leia (alone, for once). The side door slid open as the engines spooled down, and a small, grey-haired man in beige robes and sporting a whiter beard than Kylo had last seen on him stepped out. Luke looked first at Leia.

“Sister,” he said as they embraced.

“Hello, Luke,” she said. “Welcome.”

Luke turned to Kylo, who stood head and shoulders taller than him. “Ben,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too, Uncle,” said Kylo. “Thank you for coming.”

“You think we weren’t going to show up for _this_?” Rey demanded, springing down from the ship. She was still petite, but she had matured in the two years since Kylo had seen her last. Her hair was longer, the braid hanging down to her shoulders, and she carried the hilt of a dual-bladed lightsaber at her waist. As a little girl, she had been best with the bo staff in training exercises and had stuck with that when it came time to make her own saber. She was deadly with it.

“Hi, Rey,” Kylo said.

“Hi, _Kylo_ ,” she made a point to say as she stalked up to him. Stopping, she looked him up and down, searching for faults. “You look like Han.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kylo snapped, even as Leia laughed.

Rey left him to greet her, hugging her tightly. Leia hadn’t spent much time with Luke and the apprentices, but she had always been particularly fond of Rey. Kylo liked her, too; she was, in some ways, like a sister to him. They had been closer than most of the other padawans in the years after she joined them at the school.

“Come,” said Luke when they parted. “We don’t have much time to waste. Ben, I need to know everything you know about Snoke.”

“It’s not as much as we should know,” Kylo said. “We’re not going in blind, but I still have no idea what kind of being he even is.”

“I have an inkling,” Luke said. “Lore would have us believe that there were only the two factions of Jedi and Sith, but there have always been Force-users outside of them. Snoke is one of these, I’m certain. He uses the powers of the dark side, but never allied himself with the Sith order.” He frowned deeply. “The Sith had rules that he likely didn’t want to abide by, which makes him, perhaps, even more dangerous than a Sith lord might have been in the days of the Old Republic.”

Kylo could see Luke’s concern and he shared it. This wasn’t going to be a straightforward task.

“Let’s not stay out here and talk,” Leia said. “Come inside and have some tea. We’ll discuss things there.”

They went with her around the command center to one of the smaller briefing rooms, where an aide was waiting with a tea service. Kylo took his place on a cushion by the low table and picked up the teapot to pour for the others.

“Tell us about your dreams, Ben,” Luke said, sipping the gingery tea. “I wasn’t aware you were still having them.”

“I didn’t think I needed to tell anyone,” Kylo admitted. “They came infrequently and weren’t as vivid as they were when I was a kid. I figured it was just something I’d have to put up with for the rest of my life. It didn’t seem dangerous.”

“That’s just like you,” Rey said. “You play it off like nothing’s wrong even though there’s some kind of ancient Force-being out there trying to seduce you to the dark side.”

Kylo made a face. “Please don’t use that word.”

Rey rolled her eyes, but stayed silent. She took a drink of her tea.

“What has he been showing you?” Luke asked.

“Some of the same things he always has,” Kylo replied. “The Knights of Ren, the two sabers I could choose.” He shifted in his seat, considering. “But I think he’s done, now. He told me in the last dream that it was my final chance to take him up on his offer.”

Luke’s brows rose. “He intends to withdraw?”

“I think he’s decided I’m a lost cause,” said Kylo. “I told him outright we’re coming to kill him.”

“ _Stars above_!” Rey cried. “What were you thinking to give that away? We could have surprised him.”

Kylo shook his head. “No. He sees what I do. I don’t know how much, but he watches. He would have known anyway.”

She crossed her arms over her narrow chest and glowered. “Still.”

Luke set a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Rey,” he said. “We don’t need our purpose to be hidden to go forward with our plans.”

“You have plans already?” Leia asked, hands wrapped around her warm cup of tea.

“Not anything concrete,” he replied. “That’s what we’re here to discuss. What do you know of Snoke’s location?”

Leia told him of Starkiller, bringing up a display. Luke concurred with Kylo that the large subterranean chambers likely belonged to him and would be highly guarded.

“We can deal with regular troopers no problem,” said Rey.

“I don’t think it’ll be just those,” Kylo warned. “The knights are there, I’d guess. The ones who came to the school to take me. They’re Force-users, too.”

“I remember that,” said Luke. “I’d expect them, too. Six, were there?”

“Yes,” Kylo said. “Not good odds against three.”

Luke soberly sipped his tea. “We’ve faced worse.”

“When?” Leia demanded. “There have been no real threats of dark side Force-users before this. Save for when these Knights of Ren came for Ben. Don’t you want to call the others? The other masters you’ve made?”

“My impression,” Luke said, “is that we do not have the time. The other masters and their apprentices are either training at the school or elsewhere, seeing to their own tasks. This is something we have to do ourselves.”

Kylo idly swirled the tea in his cup around with the Force, uninterested in drinking it. Taking on Snoke was one thing, but facing six other opponents of unknown strength and _then_ Snoke himself seemed like far more than just the three of them could handle.

“Luke, that’s too dangerous,” said Leia. “If we lost all three of you—”

“We’ll be fine,” Rey said coolly. She shot a wry look at Kylo. “Unless _Ben_ can’t get back into shape.”

Kylo wanted to tell her off, but he said, “I might not be able to.” The liquid in his cup suddenly stilled, the cup itself beginning to turn over. Exerting more of his will, Kylo held it in place, the tea trapped just at the lip.

Luke smiled. “There, you see? You’re still keen. You’ll be ready.”

Despite himself, Kylo smiled back.

Setting his hands on the tabletop, Luke looked again at the display of Starkiller Base. He pointed to a shuttle bay nearest Snoke’s quarters. “We’ll need to be dropped here. Where will the main Resistance force be, Leia?”

“Here,” she said, marking the largest hangar on the base. “We’ll bring in five hundred infantry there. We’ve got maybe a hundred more to spare, if you need them.”

“We won’t,” he said. “We need to find a side entrance just for us. The main attack will draw attention from us and let us get to Snoke without confrontation.”

“How exactly do you plan to do that?” Kylo asked, leaning forward. “There could be any number of stormtroopers in those passages.”

“Aren’t you still good at coercion?” Rey said. “You used to sneak past _other padawans_ with just your memory tricks.”

Kylo remembered those days, when he had been able to manipulate the minds of other Force-sensitives, which were usually unbiddable, using coercion. Snoke had taught him that.

Rey continued, “If you didn’t want anyone to see us, they just _wouldn’t_.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done that,” Kylo said. He glanced at Luke. “And I was told it was forbidden.”

Luke sighed heavily. “Sometimes the tools we wield are not ideal, but if we have no other choice—”

“Are you saying the ends justify any means, Uncle?” Kylo asked darkly. “You’d never have said that when I was studying with you.”

“I know you’re not going to use your powers for ill, Ben,” Luke replied. “You have certain aptitudes that can be useful, if employed with caution.”

Kylo wet his lips, uncertain how to reply. The Luke he had known as a boy was so devoted to the light side that he would not have deigned to admit that there were uses for the dark. Something had changed his mind in the years since Kylo had been gone. Maybe he’d have a chance to ask him later.

“Fine,” Kylo said. “I’ll try to get some practice in. But we’ll need more than just coercion.”

“We know,” said Rey. “I’ve got a whole plan for you.”

He cringed inwardly. Rey had always been one of the most dedicated students and took her meditation and katas very seriously. She was more cut out to be a Jedi than Ben ever had been.

“You should begin, then,” Luke said. “Leia and I will discuss more while you work.” He lifted a bushy grey brow. “We’ll reconvene later today?”

Kylo abandoned his untouched tea and rose along with Rey. “Call if you need us,” he said and went out of the briefing room.

“You armed?” Rey asked as they walked around the side of the building.

He unclipped the hilt of his saber from the back of his belt to show her. “As always.”

She snorted. “You don’t carry that every day.”

“No,” said Kylo.

“And I bet it’ll show when we get to training,” she laughed. Grabbing him by the wrist, she hauled him along toward a nearby field.

At its edge, she stopped to pull off her boots. Kylo set his next to hers and followed her onto the grass, where they both sat cross-legged.

“Do you still meditate?” Rey asked.

Kylo nodded. “As much as I can. I haven’t in a few days. Been busy.”

“A likely excuse,” Rey said, teasing.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” said Kylo. “Let’s just get started.”

He set his palms on his knees, closing his eyes and breathing in and out steadily. He first listened to the noise of the base around him—from the rumble of X-wing engines to voices and little electric transports rolling along the paved paths—but then began to focus inward on the nearly imperceptible sounds and movements of his body. The muscles of his legs twitched once before settling; his stomach churned as he digested his breakfast; his heartbeat began to slow as he sat quietly and willed it to.

The Force was surrounded him at all times, but quieting everything allowed him to feel it more strongly and in its rawer form. It vibrated through him, body and mind, until it permeated everything. He slipped into the flow of it, thoughts of the mission to come and Snoke and even Hux fading from his consciousness. He could sense Rey’s presence in the Force, but he didn’t reach out to her; he concentrated only on himself, strengthening his connection to the energy.

They stayed still for long minutes, until Kylo felt attuned. He sent a thought toward Rey to indicate he was ready, and she acknowledged it. Easing himself out of the meditation, Kylo opened his eyes to take in the green of the grass, the purplish hue of the sky. Getting to his feet, he wiggled his toes, feeling grounded.

“Think we should pick up some rocks next?” Rey asked with a smirk.

“Kriff off,” Kylo replied tersely. To prove he didn’t need to play children’s games to practice, he lifted Rey’s boots and, flicking his fingers, threw them at her with the Force. She stopped them mid-flight and dropped them back to the ground.

“Fine,” Rey said. She unclipped the lightsaber from her belt. “Let’s work on your form, then.”

Kylo took his own saber from his back and pressed the button to engage the blade—red.

The dual blades of Rey’s were icy blue, bordering on white. She spun the saber deftly before taking up a wide stance for her kata. Kylo faced her, preparing for his own. They would use different forms, as their weapons were not alike. Kylo chose one of the familiar ones he still practiced from time to time in the living room of the Ryden 2 station. Looking into the middle distance, he began to go through the forms.

Training like this brought back memories of when he had been keen on combat and the best of the padawans. He still loved it and wished he had more occasions to draw his saber, but it was dangerous and would give him away. It had been a slaughter, and he should have been ashamed, but he had come alive in the recent fight with the mercenaries. And Hux had been at his back, with his blaster. They made a formidable team.

“You’re not concentrating,” Rey scolded.

“I am,” said Kylo, though he knew his thoughts had been wandering. He brought himself back to the present and focused on the movements of the kata.

When they were finished, he was sweating through his shirt. Annoyed, he pulled it over his head, tossed it aside, and tied up his hair.

“What’s next?” he asked.

Rey retracted one of the blades of her saber. “Another. I’ll do it with you this time. Maybe keep your head in the right place.” Kylo glowered and she laughed. “Don’t be so sour,” she said. “You’re not doing badly. I just like giving you a hard time.”

“Clearly,” Kylo grumbled. “All right. Let’s go again.”

Standing side by side, they began another kata.

 

* * *

 

Rey declared it “Enough for now” four katas later, when Kylo was getting sore and craving a shower. He put his shirt back on but left it untucked, clipping his saber back into its place.

“It’s time for lunch,” he said. “Come along?”

Rey nodded. “Definitely. I’m starving.”

Together they headed toward the mess hall, where many of the Resistance fighters were already gathered. Kylo scanned the room for Hux and found him standing in line to get a tray of food. Rey followed his gaze and cocked a brow.

“Someone I should know?” she asked.

“Actually, yes,” Kylo replied. “He wanted to meet you.”

Hux spotted them as they were about halfway across the room and he stepped out of line to greet them.

Kylo began, “Armitage Hux, this is Rey. Rey, Hux. He’s my copilot and…” He hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

“Friend,” said Hux, offering his hand to Rey.

Rey looked him over, clearly reading into what he said. She smiled slyly as she shook his hand. “Well, well, that’s _interesting._ Nice to meet you, Hux.”

“Likewise,” he said.

Kylo watched them size each other up, Hux standing tall above Rey. She wasn’t intimidated, though; she rarely was by anyone.

“You two been together long?” she asked.

“Not overly long,” Hux replied. “But long enough.” He glanced at Kylo, offering a small smile. Kylo winked at him.

Rey snorted. “Still in that crazy-about-each-other phase, eh? That’s sweet. How did you meet?”

Kylo pressed his lips together, but Hux said, “It’s a bit of a story. I’m happy to tell you over lunch.”

“Sounds good,” Rey said, grinning. “I’m always ready for a story.”

Kylo was content to listen and eat in silence while Hux recounted their meeting with remarkable candidness. He didn’t shy away from his history with the First Order or his intentions to return to them at first.

Rey took it all in without comment, until the end, when she swallowed the bite of bread she had been chewing and said, “You’re right; that’s definitely a story. Significantly more exciting than ‘He bought me a drink in a cantina.’”

Hux chuckled. “Yes, I should imagine so.”

Rey was about to say more, but the chatter around them died down quite suddenly, faces turning toward the door. Kylo looked, too, to find Luke standing at the threshold. Everyone in the Resistance knew him—nearly everyone in the galaxy did—but they had likely never seen him in the flesh. Kylo met his eyes, reading the summons.

“I have to go,” Kylo said.

“I’ll take your tray,” said Hux.

Kylo leaned in to kiss his cheek before getting up to join Luke. He felt the gazes on him as he and his uncle left the mess hall.

“How did your training go this morning?” Luke asked.

“Good,” Kylo replied. “I’m still in decent enough practice.”

Luke hummed. “With the katas, maybe, but there is much more to work on before you’re ready.”

“I know,” Kylo said. “But I’m prepared to do it.”

“Good,” said Luke.

They went again to the field where Kylo had trained with Rey, but he didn’t expect he would be using his saber. This was training of the mind more than the body, which he had always struggled with as a child. Luke had said then that he was too wrapped up in his emotions, something to which a Jedi could not succumb.

“Sit,” Luke said, taking up a place on the grass. He gestured to the space across from him, where Kylo sank down onto his knees. Luke set his hands on his thighs and looked Kylo in the eyes, unblinking. “If Snoke can still enter your dreams, you’re vulnerable to him. You have to build up your defenses or he may be able to manipulate you when you face him.”

Kylo remembered some of the exercises he had done at Luke’s school, but he hadn’t practiced any of them in years. Even when he had been a student and practicing actively, Snoke had still gotten to him. It was possible Kylo’s efforts now wouldn’t protect him.

“What do I have to do?” Kylo said.

Luke extended a hand and a pressure began to form at the back of Kylo’s head, similar but less excruciating than Snoke’s had been two nights before.

“You can get into the minds of others easily,” Luke said, “but can you fight another influence on yourself?”

Kylo drew on the Force, attempting to push Luke back from his mind. Luke went harder, driving into him with determination. Kylo tried to resist him, but felt the walls he erected around his thoughts cracking under the pressure. He didn’t try to fortify them, instead arrowing an attack on Luke, trying to get him to withdraw to protect himself. It did little to help, leaving Kylo to founder. Luke pushed and pushed, and Kylo ground his teeth against the pain.

_Get out!_ Kylo cried in his mind. Luke only went harder. Under the onslaught, Kylo gave in. As soon as he broke through, Luke drew back. Kylo gasped for breath, his jaw aching.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Luke said, unaffected by the effort.

Kylo bent over at the waist, staring at the grass. “Show me how,” he said.

Luke put his hand at the crown of Kylo’s bowed head. “Open your mind to me and I will.”

Kylo tamped down the fear of baring himself like that. He had never liked sharing everything with his uncle, despite Luke’s assurances that it was for his own good. But that’s what a Force bond would be, he thought. If he bound himself to someone else, he would be exposed to them. _Hux._ Kylo didn’t want Luke to see into him, but Hux was different.

Luke put two fingers under Kylo’s chin and raised his face. “A Force bond?” he asked. Kylo’s mind was still open to him, then, even if not completely.

“A passing thought,” Kylo said quietly.

“More than that,” Luke admonished. “Who is this Hux?”

Kylo brought up a picture of him in his head, offering it for Luke to see.

“The man in the mess hall,” said Luke. “You kissed him.”

“Yes,” Kylo said. “I care about him.”

Luke blinked. “A great deal, if you’re considering a bond with him.” His brow furrowed. “But he’s not Force-sensitive.”

Kylo lowered his eyes. “No.”

“You wonder if it’s still possible,” Luke said slowly. “I don’t have an answer for you. The texts only address the bond between two who can use the Force. Perhaps it’s been tried with a Force-null before, but there’s no record of it.”

Kylo might have expected that. “I didn’t consider it _that_ seriously. Like I said, it was a passing thought.”

“It’s not something you can’t attempt,” said Luke. “Everyone has a connection to the Force. In theory, it should be possible. The bond might be more tenuous, but if you wanted it badly enough, I can show you the ritual.”

“I don’t know if he wants it,” Kylo said.

Luke asked, “Would you find out?”

Kylo considered. Hux had committed himself to being with Kylo as a partner, but a Force bond was irrevocable. Even if it was broken, both partners would feel the emptiness for the rest of their lives. But imagining that kind of connection with Hux almost compelled him to ask.

“I would,” Kylo replied. “If you think it’s possible, I’d ask him.”

Luke drew back, sitting up tall. “I’ll consult the texts. If he accepts it, you can use them.”

Kylo gave a shaky nod. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“It’s a rare thing to seek a Force bond, Ben,” Luke said. “If you want it, you must have deep feelings for your Hux.”

“I do,” said Kylo.

Luke smiled. “You’ve always felt everything strongly. I believe you chose the right path.”

Kylo’s lips parted in surprise. “You don’t think I should have been a Jedi?”

“You would have been stifled in this life,” Luke said. “Unhappy. You have a great deal of power and might have been the strongest of us, but strong feelings could have led you astray. You didn’t allow Snoke to take you, but the the dark is still inside.”

Kylo felt the familiar shame he had known as a boy when Luke warned him of his propensity for the dark side. “I never regretted what I chose,” he said, “then or now.”

“Good,” said Luke. “I wouldn’t want that for you. Though it might not always have seemed that way, I wanted happiness for you.”

“I know,” Kylo said. “I’ve always known.”

They regarded each other for a moment, both unexpectedly forthright. Eventually, though, Kylo said, “We should keep working. I have to be better.”

Luke nodded. “All right. Let’s continue.”

 

* * *

 

D’Qar’s larger moon was rising by the time Luke called an end to their exercises. Dinner had long since passed, but Kylo was too exhausted—and a little nauseous from the effort of fighting Luke off—to consider food. They parted ways by the command center, and Kylo wended his way back to Sector 12, where his bed was waiting.

Hux was in the hut when he arrived, undressed save for his shorts and reading on the bed. He set down his datapad as Kylo came through the door, concern in his expression.

“Are you all right?” he asked, making to get up.

“No, stay,” said Kylo. “I’ll be right there.” He stooped to remove his boots, then saw to his belt and trousers. His shirt he threw against the wall, where it dropped into a puddle on the floor. Body aching and mind flayed, he lay down on the bed, putting his head in Hux’s lap. He sighed, closing his eyes.

“You look spent,” Hux said as he slid the tie out of Kylo’s hair and began to comb his fingers through it. “You were with your uncle all afternoon? What did he do to you?”

“Put me through my paces,” Kylo replied. “Mind if I don’t explain it right now?”

“Of course not,” said Hux. “You don’t have to say anything. Do you just want to sleep?”

It was tempting, but Kylo hadn’t put the thought of the Force bond out of his head since Luke had offered to teach him the ritual. He had to ask Hux, had to know if he wanted the kind of tie to Kylo that Kylo wanted to him.

“No,” Kylo said. “Not yet. I have something to talk to you about.” He glanced up to see Hux look softly down at him.

“Is something wrong?” Hux asked.

“No,” said Kylo. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just...something I need to know.”

“All right. Go ahead.”

Kylo eased himself up until he was sitting across from Hux, face-to-face. “Do you remember when I told you about Force bonds?”

“Yes,” said Hux. “A connection between Force-users, like the one between your uncle and Rey.”

“That’s right,” Kylo said. “You asked before if a Force-null could form one. I asked Luke. He said it’s not impossible.”

“No?”

Kylo took his hands and kissed the knuckles of each. “Were you thinking of us when you asked that?”

Hux swallowed, but nodded.

Kylo’s chest tightened with nervous hope. “Would you want it, if we could?”

Hux chewed his cheek, staring down at their joined hands. “You said it’s permanent—that once we’re joined, we’ll always be connected.”

“Yes,” said Kylo. “I’d be able to find you anywhere in the galaxy. I don’t know if you could feel me the same way, since you’re not Force-sensitive, but I could feel you.”

Hux met his eyes and Kylo saw uncertainty there. “What if you tire of me?”

Kylo gave a feeble laugh. “I was worried that you would get tired of _me_. Maybe you’d want to move on after a while.” He hated to say it, but he did: “I’m the first man you’ve been with. You might want to try something else down the road.”

Hux looked affronted. “Do you really think that of me?”

“I—” Kylo started, feeling suddenly sheepish. “Well, I _hoped_ not, but most people don’t stay with their first lover.”

“I don’t plan to leave you, Kylo,” Hux said, squeezing his fingers. “I thought I had made that clear to you. What else can I do to prove it?” He caught himself, chest stilling with breath in his lungs. “The bond,” he murmured. “Is that what you want?”

“I won’t make you do it just to prove a point,” Kylo was quick to say. “It’s your choice.”

“Yes,” said Hux. With emphasis: “But do _you_ want it?”

Kylo didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Hux exhaled. “Let me think on it.”

“Of course,” Kylo said. He didn’t mention that they had little time before Luke was gone again, but he couldn’t demand that Hux do this.

“Come lie down,” Hux said, drawing Kylo in until he lay on the bed beside him. “Sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Kylo let Hux curl around him, holding him close against his chest, and he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with canon when it comes to Force bonds. There's really not a ritual for it, but it's something that develops over time. But here we're doing a ritual.


	12. Hux

“Sight carefully. This isn’t meant to be rushed.”

Hux stood to the left of the young woman lying on her belly in the firing line. She was so petite that the blaster rifle she held looked twice its size. She handled it comfortably, though, and was one of the better sharpshooters he had worked with that afternoon. He had joined Tether and his cohort today only after lunch; the morning he had spent in bed, lazily reading and biding time.

Kylo had left at daybreak, bound for another morning of training with Luke Skywalker and his apprentice, Rey. He had slept fitfully in the night, Hux having felt every shift and sigh as he struggled to find a comfortable position. In the end, he had moved away from Hux, keeping to his side of the bed. Hux had let him be, but he found that sleep eluded him as well. He watched the moons rise and the smaller set before Kylo began to stir.

“I’ll find you later,” Kylo had said as he bent down to kiss Hux on the lips, the brow. He didn’t specify when that was and Hux didn’t ask. Kylo was clearly preoccupied with his training; Hux didn’t want to distract him.

While he had lain awake over the course of the night, Hux had turned over and over in his mind the Force bond Kylo had proposed. When they had first spoken of it, Hux had only nominally considered what it would be like to share everything he was with someone else, to never really be alone again. For Hux, who had spent his life in close quarters but always held himself apart, the prospect was discomfiting. It wasn’t that he couldn’t go away from Kylo, but even at a distance, Kylo would be able to feel him.

Despite that trepidation, Hux was mildly annoyed at Kylo’s worry that Hux would someday want to leave him. Hux had assumed he had made his commitment blatant enough—an oath like that among the troopers would not have been questioned after it was sworn—but Kylo still doubted him. Maybe lovers came and went easily in the world he knew, but that wasn’t the case in Hux’s.

The Force bond would put all doubt aside, of course.

Hux had looked over at Kylo as he slept. He had been covered almost completely by the sheet, save for his hair, which was spread out over his pillow. Hux had yearned to touch it, but he didn’t want to risk waking him when he had finally settled down. Hux was already bound to him, even if only by spoken agreement. It wouldn’t be so much more, in the end, to bind themselves in the Force.

When Kylo had gone, Hux had showered in the communal baths—albeit alone—and then dressed in fresh clothes. With nowhere to go, he had picked up his datapad and returned to reading the constitution of the New Republic. He reasoned that if he was going to be living under its jurisdiction, he had better know what to expect. (That was if the First Order didn’t succeed in destroying the entire Hosnian system and the seat of the government.) The rules were convoluted and at times impractical, but it wasn’t the chaos the Order had insisted it was. Hux could tolerate it, he thought, for Kylo’s sake.

He had skipped breakfast, so when it came time for lunch, he went to the mess hall to find something to eat. Yur, the girl from Tether’s squad, invited him to sit with her and several other young recruits. They came from all manner of places in the Mid Rim and Core, where the New Republic was the strongest. Hux had yet to encounter anyone from the Unknown Regions or even the Outer Rim. He reckoned that those people would turn to the Order if they sought a way out of their lives, as Phasma had. The Republic was just an idea on the fringes, even if it ostensibly represented their interests.

“Are you coming to shoot with us after lunch?” Yur had asked eagerly.

Hux hadn’t asked permission, but he expected that Tether wouldn’t object. “All right,” he had said.

Now, he was coaching the small girl as she lined up her shot at a target at eight hundred meters. Heeding him, she sighted slowly and thoughtfully, exhaling just before she pulled the trigger. The blaster bolt zipped out and away, and a few seconds later, the girl whooped with joy.

“I made it!” she said, beaming up at Hux. “Got inside the inner rings.”

Hux held out his hands for her blaster and she passed it up to him. He looked through the scope to the place where she had hit the target. It was a good shot, and he told her as much.

“Thank you,” she said in a rush, scrambling to her feet and dusting the grass off of her trousers.

Hux handed her the rifle again. “Keep practicing,” he said and went to move on to the next shooter: an older man with hair greying at the temples. Before Hux could get to his lane, he spotted Poe Dameron coming toward him, waving. Hux stepped out to meet him.

“Hey, Hux,” Poe said, bright as ever. “I figured I’d find you here. Can you spare a minute? There’s someone you need to see.”

“Certainly,” said Hux. “May I ask whom?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” Poe replied. He tipped his head toward the main compound. “Come on.”

He cut quickly through the base, dodging transports and units of troops out for their afternoon runs. Wherever he went, he got smiles and greetings, all of which he returned. Hux admired how affable he was with everyone in the Resistance; it didn’t seem like anyone disliked him.

“Kylo told me that you’ve known him all his life,” Hux said as they walked together.

“That’s true,” said Poe. “I was four years old when Leia and Han first brought him to Yavin IV. They’re old friends of my parents. Fought in the Rebellion together. My memory of that first meeting’s a little fuzzy, but I remember Ben was big for a one-year-old and had a thick head of hair.” He chuckled. “He’s _still_ got good hair.”

Hux fisted his hand, trying not to think too hard on how Kylo liked to have his hair pulled while Hux fucked him. “Yes,” he said.

Poe continued, “He came around every summer after that, though, when he could get a break from training with Luke. We learned to fly together when he was there. He was my first copilot. Didn’t like taking the second seat, but he did it because I was older..”

“I can’t imagine that lasted long,” Hux said.

“Sure didn’t. As soon as he was old enough to fly something of his own, he was off trying to show me up. It would have driven me crazy if I didn’t love him.”

Hux raised his brows, glancing at him. “Do you?” he asked.

“Of course,” Poe replied. “He’s—” He cut himself off, coming to an abrupt halt and facing Hux. “I don’t mean it like _that_ ,” he said. “Well, I guess I did, once, but that was years ago. We knew it wouldn’t work. I still care about him a lot, but it’s not...well, I don’t wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.”

Hux indulged in a moment of jealousy, knowing that Kylo had once been with Poe, but it passed. And he liked to think there was a certain way Kylo saw him that made his preference clear.

“It’s not a problem,” Hux said. “If I implied that, I apologize.”

Poe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, glad that’s out of the way, then. Ben—Kylo—is like family to me. But he’s only got eyes for you.”

Hux raised a hand to stop him. “You don’t need to say any more. I understand.”

“Good,” Poe said. “That’s good.” He started off again and Hux fell into step with him. “Anyway, I like to think that Ben and I are good pilots because we never stopped competing. He still has an X-wing here, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Hux.

“Yep. He still flies it sometimes, when he’s around.” Poe grinned. “We used to do races when we were younger. Made a whole day of it. Even Leia’d watch.”

“Must have been quite the show,” Hux offered.

“We liked to think so. You’re a pilot yourself, eh?” Poe asked.

“Not a competent one,” Hux replied. “Kylo is teaching me.” He paused, then added, “We haven’t had a lesson in a while. Been occupied with other things.”

Poe laughed. “You could say that again. The thing you did—going into the First Order for that information—that was incredible. You put your life on the line to help us.”

“Yes,” Hux said. “Kylo needed me, so I did what was necessary.”

“He’s a lucky man,” said Poe. “I hope he knows it.”

They rounded the corner of a building Hux hadn’t been into before, passing by two armed guards at the door. Inside it was cooler and darker and smelled slightly of antiseptic. Poe led them through a narrow corridor lined with doors, until they arrived at one near the end. Poe entered a code into the number pad on the handle and the door unlocked. As it swung open, Hux saw Phasma and FN-2187 inside.

They were both wearing Resistance-issue fatigues, their clothing from the Order presumably disposed of. FN-2187 was seated on one of the low cots, but Phasma was standing. She eyed Poe distrustfully, but FN-2187 visibly brightened at the sight of him.

“Hi, Poe,” he said.

Poe smiled. “Hey, Finn. Good to see you.”

Hux cocked a brow. Finn? He would ask later.

More tentatively, FN-2187 said, “Hello, Hux.”

“Good afternoon,” Hux replied. He glanced around the bare walls of the cell. “Have you been treated well?”

“We can’t complain,” said Phasma. “They’ve fed us and dressed us and let us live.”

“The Resistance doesn’t execute people,” Poe said sternly.

“So we were told,” Phasma continued, tone flat. “Is there something you needed from us, Hux?”

It was Poe who replied: “General Organa wanted him to come by and see that you’re doing all right after she spoke to you. He’s responsible for you, in a way.”

Hux was glad to know that they had talked to Leia. It was a kind of reassurance that they were in a wholly different place than they had been in the First Order; they never would have been permitted to see a general there. “Did you give your information to her?” he asked Phasma.

Phasma nodded. “Everything I know.”

“And what did she say?”

“That it’s more than they had before. She thanked us.” Phasma seemed genuinely surprised by that, but Hux no longer was. “We’re allowed to stay on-planet for the foreseeable future, but we’ll have to stay out of whatever they’re planning for Starkiller. I don’t blame her for that. And”—she hesitated—“I don’t know that I’m ready to attack the Order right after leaving it.”

“Understandably,” said Hux. He didn’t stop to consider what she thought of him for turning around quickly and betraying the Order just weeks after he had defected. But he had been forced out instead of coming willingly. To Poe: “Will they be permitted outside of the cell?”

“Maybe,” Poe said. “Maybe not.” He looked at FN-2187, who was regarding him hopefully. The young trooper seemed to have taken to him, just as most everyone in the Resistance had. “If it were up to me, I’d at least show you around, but it’s not.”

FN-2187’s face fell and he turned his eyes to the floor.

Phasma was less affected. “We’re content enough here,” she said. “It could be far worse than a clean cot and three squares a day.”

“I might be able to speak with General Organa,” said Hux. “I’ve been of use to the marksmen. Phasma, you were in charge in trooper training. I don’t see why your expertise wouldn’t be valuable.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Poe said, scratching his stubbled chin. “I’ll pitch it to the general. And, Finn, I’m sure you could tag along.”

FN-2187 offered a small smile. “Would you be there?”

Well, it seemed he was downright smitten.

Poe beamed. “I’m a pilot, but I stop by the troops every so often. I’ll come to see you, buddy.”

“Okay,” said FN-2187.

Poe rubbed his hands together, falling back a step toward the door. “Well, we can’t stick around all day. I’ve got a patrol to fly, and Hux…” He raised his dark brows, questioning.

Hux could return to the marksmen, he supposed, but more than that he wanted to see Kylo—if he could find him. He and Luke and Rey might have gone somewhere private to do their training, where they wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone.

“May I stay for a few more minutes?” Hux asked. “I have something to speak to Phasma about.”

She gave him a look, which he ignored in favor of Poe.

“Well, I guess so,” Poe replied. “You’re not going to try to spring them, right?”

“I’m not,” said Hux. “And I don’t think we could get past the guards even if we tried.” He held out his open palms. “I assure you, I only want to talk with her.”

Poe nodded. “Okay, then.” To Finn: “Why don’t you come down the hall with me while they talk? They’ve got juice if you’re interested.”

FN-2187 sprang to his feet. “I’ve never had it, but it sounds good.”

“It is,” Hux said.

“All right,” said Poe. “Come on, Finn. Hux, we’ll be back in fifteen minutes. That enough time for you?”

Hux inclined his head. “It should be, yes. Thank you.”

Poe crooked his finger at FN-2187, bidding him come, and the trooper was quick to join him. He trotted eagerly out of the cell and into the hall. Poe left the cell door open, but Hux didn’t mind.

He turned to Phasma and began, cutting to the chase: “I need to know where Brendol Hux is on Starkiller base. You said you have his location.”

“I do,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I don’t have a map to show you.”

“I can get access to one later,” said Hux. “Just give me the general idea.”

Phasma went over to the cot opposite FN-2187’s and sank down onto it. The springs squeaked just slightly under her. “What do you know of the base layout?”

“Nothing,” Hux replied, taking a seat on the other cot. “But you and I were both trained to navigate without maps.”

Phasma snorted, seemingly amused. “That’s true. Fine. We’ll start with the basics. It’s a small base, just a command center, hangars, and barracks. The troopers who train there under Brendol are special ops, the best of the infantry. Last time I was there, there were only a hundred. They’ve probably rotated off by now and there’s a new unit. But I doubt their numbers have increased.”

“Do they also serve as security for the base?” Hux asked.

“Yes,” Phasma replied. “Minimal, though. The Order doesn’t expect an attack.”

“Maybe they didn’t, before,” said Hux, “but now that their plans are in the Resistance’s hands, I’m certain they’ll be building up their presence there.”

Phamsa tipped her head to the side, conceding. “Make sense. Can’t say I know how many they’ll send.”

Hux reasoned that the base would be reinforced primarily by ships in orbit rather than troopers on the ground, but he wouldn’t put it past his brother to do both.

“Let Organa’s infantry deal with that,” he said. “I can get by them.”

“I’ve no doubt you can,” Phasma said. “Will you be getting a transport down to the surface with the infantry, though?”

“I don’t know that yet, but I’d imagine so.” It would be to his advantage to let the Resistance take the brunt of the ground fire while he slipped away. In the chaos, one man wouldn’t be noticed.

“Then you’ll land near one of two hangars,” Phasma said. “The east hangar is where you should be. It’s closer to the barracks, which are on the far side of the compound. Most supply shipments come through that hangar, so it might be more heavily manned. There’s enough clutter for you to duck behind, though: crates and the like. Odds are you’ll survive.”

Hux huffed a laugh. “Good to know. Are the hangars connected to the barracks, or are they separate buildings?”

“Nothing is separate. The weather is cold and windy, so everything’s connected to keep the officers from having to go outside. The barracks are down a long corridor at the upper right corner of the hangar. The corridor goes due north for about six hundred meters before you actually get to the barracks proper.” She shifted in her seat, eyes turned up as she remembered. “You’ll find the mess first, and the recreation room. The simulation rooms are to the right and sleeping quarters to the left. The commander’s office and quarters are just off of the sim rooms.”

Hux let the building take shape in his mind, until he could visualize the general layout. He would solidify the mental image when he saw the map. He’d have to ask Kylo to let Leia give him access to it.

“Is it all on the ground floor?” he asked.

Phasma shook her head. “Brendol’s rooms are on the second level. His office overlooks the main training floor. From what I could tell, his quarters are just off of it. If he’s going to be anywhere during the attack, it’s in his office.” She pursed her lips disapprovingly. “He’s not been a combat soldier in decades.”

Hux scowled. Of course his father would stay clear of the actual battlefield, protecting himself at all costs. “Is there security in his office?”

“Absolutely,” Phasma said. “I don’t know the extent of it, though. Could be biometrics or passcodes.”

“I’ll find a way in,” Hux said.

“I’m sure you will.”

He hoped the schematics of Starkiller he had retrieved would have some description of the security systems, but if they didn’t, he would manage. He thought, if it came to it, he could announce himself as Armitage Hux. Either his father would let him in, or he would dispatch troopers to kill him. It wasn’t a great plan, but it might be his only option. He kept that to himself, though, and he wouldn’t be telling Kylo.

“What else do I need to know?” he asked.

Phasma leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Not much else I can tell you. That’s where you have to go.”

“Good.” Hux rose. “Thank you.”

She looked up at him from her perch on the cot. “I never liked the old bastard, so good luck to you.”

Hux chuckled. “I appreciate that.”

Phasma gave an informal salute as he went to the door. He nearly collided with FN-2187, who was holding two bottles of red-orange juice, one of them half-empty.

“Sorry!” the young man exclaimed.

“Steady on, Finn,” said Poe from behind him, resting a hand at the small of his back.

“Where exactly did that name come from?” Hux asked.

Poe said, “Well, I couldn’t just call a man by a number, and it started with FN, so it kind of sounds like ‘Finn.’” He moved his hand up to FN-2187’s shoulder, looping his arm around him. “You like it, don’t you, buddy?”

Finn—a good name—smiled. “I do, yes.”

“Good deal,” Poe continued, grinning again. “Hey, Phasma, we brought you some juice. Interested?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “Water is fine.”

“More for Finn, then,” he laughed. “The kid loves it.”

Finn glanced shyly down, but didn’t deny it.

“I’m done here,” Hux said. “Ready to leave.”

Poe ushered Finn back into the cell with an apology. “See you two later, okay?”

Finn waved. Phasma just watched steadily as Poe swung the door shut.

“Thank you for bringing me to see them,” Hux said as they walked back down the corridor, away from the cell block. “I didn’t expect they’d be treated poorly, but I appreciate General Organa making that clear to me.”

“She’s amazing like that,” said Poe. “The best leader I’ve ever served under.” He eyed Hux sidelong. “She can be a little scary, though, when it comes to Ben.”

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” Hux said, in earnest. Leia was formidable, but he wasn’t afraid of her.

“She didn’t threaten you not to break Ben’s heart?” Poe asked. “She did that to me, and I’ve known her my whole life. She barely knows you.”

Hux could hardly imagine her doing anything of the sort. Kylo was a grown man, who could choose his own partners.

“She didn’t,” said Hux. “Should I expect that sometime in the future?”

Poe shrugged. “If she hasn’t done it already, she probably won’t. I guess she’s let up a little since Ben was a kid. I mean, he was only eighteen when we were together. Maybe she was still being protective. To be honest, I was expecting that talking-to from Han, his dad, but he just clapped me on the back and said that as long as Ben was happy, he was happy. I like Han.”

“I believe I do, too,” Hux said, thinking back to their meeting on Nati 5. He had teased Kylo about Hux then, implying that they might have been more to each than they let on. Kylo had told him to stop, but Hux wondered if maybe Han just had good intuition about his son’s preferences for lovers.

“You met him?” Poe asked.

“One time, yes,” Hux replied. “Several weeks ago. Kylo is very like him.”

“Don’t tell Ben that. He’s got both of them in him, but he spent much more time with Han than with Leia.” He sobered some. “They’re not really a conventional family. But who would expect them to be, right? The whole galaxy knows Leia and Han.”

“What makes a family ‘conventional?’” said Hux. “I have no experience with that.”

“Right, of course,” Poe muttered. More clearly: “Well, I guess one that sticks together. That’s not really a great definition, but maybe nobody’s really ‘conventional.’”

Hux had nothing to add, so he kept silent. They went back out into the warm weather, stopping on the path outside the detention center, out of earshot of the guards.

“Can you find your way back on your own?” Poe said.

“I can,” said Hux. “But...do you know where Kylo is?”

Poe put his hands into the pockets of his trousers, rocking back on his heels. “Last time I saw him, he was with Luke and Rey on the other side of the X-wing hangar, where it’s quieter. I might check there.”

“Thank you,” Hux said. He held out his hand for Poe to shake. “For everything.”

Poe grinned and shook. “Sure thing, Hux. See you around.” Turning, he headed away.

Hux went in the opposite direction, walking toward the distant hangar. He was mostly ignored as he went, the Resistance operatives he passed intent on their own work or destinations. It was strange how they had just assimilated him; he barely stood out. It wouldn’t be overly hard to come into their ranks in earnest, he reckoned, but that still didn’t sit well with him. He much preferred to keep out of official Resistance business, as he had agreed upon with Kylo.

Hux was itching to see him and it had only been eight or so hours since he had left their bed. He hadn’t expected to be as addicted to someone as he was now to Kylo. The soldier in him said it was a weakness, but he wasn’t a soldier anymore.

It was, as Poe had said, quieter on the far side of the X-wing hangar, and as Hux came around the building, he heard the buzzing clash of energy weapons. In the nearby field, Kylo was wielding his red lightsaber against Rey, who had a double-bladed saber in white-blue. They would charge in to clash, the light of the weapons illuminating their faces, and then retreat again to circle and prepare for the next attack. Luke Skywalker was seated ten meters away, watching their bout with an impassive expression.

Rey was lightning-quick with her saber, and seemed to easily dodge Kylo’s broader, more powerful strokes. He had more space here than he had had in the cantina where Hux had first seen him with his saber, and he used it to take long steps around their grassy battlefield, chasing Rey with frightfully strong slashes of his blade. Sparks erupted where the weapons met, and Hux could smell a kind of burning in the air.

He approached cautiously, pausing at a distance to continue watching. Kylo’s hair was stringy and damp from the effort, his shoulders shining with sweat. Rey was affected, too; her cheeks were flushed and the neat braid at the back of her head was coming loose. She never once took her eyes off of Kylo, who was glowering at her as he spun his saber deftly with his prosthetic right hand. He wore a glove over the hand, likely to keep a better grip on the weapon.

With a grunt, Kylo surged forward and swung overhand at Rey. She threw her blade up to counter it, wavering under his onslaught. She was strong, but he was twice her size. He threw his weight into the attack to press her back. As soon as he put himself off balance, she withdrew, sending him forward. Gesturing with her left hand, she seemed to grab him by the ankles and yank him down onto the ground. The blade of his saber seared the grass as he fell onto his front.

Rey put her own blade to his neck and said, “Yield.”

“Yield,” Kylo growled, conceding the fight.

Rey backed off, powering down her saber. Kylo did the same, pushing himself up onto his knees. He rubbed his left hand over his face with a grimace.

“That’s twice now she’s bested you in the same way,” Luke Skywalker said from his place nearby. “You rely too much on your physical strength. She was _specifically_ taught to counter that kind of fighter, considering her build. You’re not using all of your abilities, Ben.”

Kylo stood slowly and looked at Luke. “I’m sorry, Uncle,” he said. “I’ll do better next time.”

Hux was surprised to hear him sound so chastened, even remorseful. It wasn’t like the Kylo he knew. That Kylo would have had a clever rejoinder and would bounce back, ready to prove he could do better. Was this Ben, instead?

“You will,” said Luke, “but take a moment to recover. It seems you have a visitor.”

Kylo turned, alighting on Hux. Hux expected the penitence to fade, but it remained; Kylo looked ashamed. He fiddled with the hilt of his saber for a moment before taking a step toward Hux. Hux approached, meeting him not far from where Rey stood by.

“What’s the matter?” Hux asked straightaway, reaching out to touch his wrist.

Kylo was frowning, barely meeting Hux’s eyes. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

“What?” said Hux.

“Me, flat on my face,” Kylo replied between clenched teeth.

Hux slid his hand up Kylo’s forearm to his bicep. “You’re embarrassed?”

“Of course,” Kylo said, short. He glanced up at last, his expression dark. “Nobody wants to make of fool of themselves in front of someone they care about.”

“You don’t look like a fool, Kylo,” Hux said in an attempt to soothe him. “You had a bad match. I’ve had my share of those, too.”

Kylo sighed, moving in and dropping his head onto Hux’s shoulder. “This is _hard_. I’m tired.”

Hux put one arm around his waist and the other at the back of his head, petting him gently. “You’ve been doing this all day?”

“Between hours of meditation,” Kylo said. “I’ve had both of them rooting around in my head since I got here. I forgot what it’s like.”

Hux shot a glare at Rey and Luke, who were standing side-by-side now, watching him and Kylo. If they were bothered by it, they didn’t flinch.

“Can you take a break?” Hux asked.

Kylo wrapped his arms around Hux, nuzzling his neck. “I shouldn’t. I have so much more to do. I can’t face Snoke like this; I’m too weak.”

Hux stroked his back. He hated Kylo dwelling on his shortcomings, but he knew fighting Snoke was not going to be easy. “Is there a way I can help you?”

“I don’t think so,” Kylo said, muffled, “but it’s good to see you.” He moved to kiss Hux, despite their audience. Hux had come to realize that he didn’t much care who was watching them. Hux didn’t, either, so he kissed him back.

Rey cleared her throat after a minute and Kylo stepped back. He had relaxed some, and gave Hux a smile. “Come meet my uncle,” he said, drawing Hux by the hand.

Luke was a smaller man than either Kylo or Hux, and he wore a black glove over the hand Hux knew was cybernetic, as Kylo’s arm was. He had a full grey beard and was dressed simply, in a beige tunic over brown leggings. He seemed the kind of sage one would expect a Jedi master to be: composed, ascetic, and with a steady gaze.

“You’re Hux,” he said. “Ben’s told me of you.”

“And you’re Luke Skywalker,” Hux said.

Luke spread his hands with a half-smile that suggested there was more character to him than met the eye. “I am, I’m afraid. Are you duly underwhelmed?”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Kylo grumbled.

Hux cocked a brow at Luke. “Was I meant to be?”

“Some people seem to expect a big presence,” Luke replied with a shrug. “More like Leia. I’m sorry to say, but anyone who thinks I’m going to be like her is in for a disappointment. We may be twins, but I still grew up on a moisture farm, not in a palace.”

“I’m not much like my brother, either,” Hux said.

Luke chuckled. “Then we understand each other. Come sit and watch Ben’s next round.”

Kylo didn’t look particularly pleased, but he moved away from Hux, Rey coming along with him to take up their places at the center of the field again. Hux went to the place beside Luke on the grass and sat. At Luke’s command, Rey and Kylo began their predatory circling of each other.

“He’s an excellent swordsman,” Luke said. “He was the best of the padawans by far. And he’s got what it takes to beat Rey, too, if he’ll concentrate enough.”

“Have you told him that?” Hux asked.

“He doesn’t need to hear it from me. He already knows.”

From the way Kylo deferred to Luke, Hux didn’t believe that. “He’s confident in his work,” Hux said, “but not in this. It might bolster him to hear that he’s more able that he thinks he is.”

Luke hummed. “You might have a point. I taught him this as a boy, when he had to be reined in, not as he is now. He’s changed. Not that I didn’t expect that. He was a teenager when he last studied the Force.”

Hux knew it was too direct, but he asked, “Do you fault him for it?”

Luke kept his eyes trained on the fight, which Hux watched, too. “I don’t,” he said. “He made the right choice for himself and for the others at the school. It was a sacrifice for him to give up his training, but he did it because he wanted to keep those like Rey safe. That was a great responsibility for a teenager. I admired him then, and I still do.”

“As do I,” said Hux.

“He’s extremely attached to you,” Luke said. “Do you feel the same way about him?”

Hux replied, “Wholeheartedly.”

“That’s good, because he wants to commit to you fully.” Luke turned then, regarding him critically. “He’s asked you about the Force bond by now, hasn’t he?”

Hux nodded.

“And what do you say?”

The uncertainty of the night and morning lingered, but Hux could still feel the weight of Kylo’s head on his shoulder and understood that Kylo would lean on him again, if Hux gave him the opportunity. Hux wanted to be there for him when he was feeling weak, when he was feeling any way at all. Maybe Hux could know that fully, through the bond.

“I want to do it,” Hux said.

Luke blinked at him once, but then his lips curved up into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I had hoped that would be your answer. No one with Ben’s knowledge of the Force would go into it without wanting it fully. I’ve given him the materials he’ll need for the ritual. Tell him you want it, and it can be done at any time.”

Hux watched Kylo cleverly parry one of Rey’s attacks, spinning on his toe to come around at her again. She ducked, but he reached out with the Force and shoved her back. She stumbled over her own feet and went down hard onto her back. Kylo lowered his saber to her chest and said, “Yield.”

Despite her loss, she looked up at him and beamed. “I yield.” Kylo held out a hand to help her up, and she took it, springing easily to her feet again. “You do better when your boyfriend’s watching,” she said, laughing.

He rolled his eyes, but just from his posture, Hux could tell his confidence had been restored: he was radiant when he felt good about himself. Hux’s chest was warm and tight with affection as he watched him point out the grass stains on the back of Rey’s tunic.

“Go tell him what you’ve decided,” Luke said.

A lance of nerves pierced Hux’s gut, but he got up and walked toward the two of them. Kylo caught sight of him and left Rey, jogging over to catch Hux in his arms. Before he could lift Hux off his feet, Hux took his face between his hands.

“Kylo,” he said, “I want you to bind us.”

Kylo sobered immediately, hands stilling at Hux’s waist. “You mean it?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Hux. “Can you do it tonight?”

“Yeah,” Kylo said. “I mean, yes, I can.” His grip on Hux’s sides tightened, his eyes alight. “I could do it now, too. Luke showed me how.”

Hux rubbed his cheekbones with his thumbs. “Later, when we’re alone.”

Kylo leaned into Hux’s touch, his face hot from exertion. “Okay. Whatever you want.” He moved in for a kiss and Hux welcomed it.

They stayed in that spot for a time, holding onto each other, before Hux finally drew back and glanced over Kylo’s shoulder to where Luke and Rey were standing. Rey had her arms crossed over her chest sternly, but she was still smiling. When Hux met her eyes and gave her unspoken permission, she came trotting over and threw her arms around the both of them.

“Luke said I can’t watch you guys go through the ritual,” she said, “even if if it’s for science. Nobody in recorded history has tried a Force bond between a sensitive and a null. We have no idea what’s going to happen. It might not even work.”

Hux glanced at Kylo, who said, “I know that, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

“I’m completely behind it,” said Rey.

“Just because it’s an experiment?” Hux asked.

She chewed her cheek. “Well, partly because of that, but also because it’s sweet. I like you, Hux, and I think you’re good for Ben— _Kylo_.”

“I hope so,” said Hux.

Kylo touched his forehead to Hux’s. “I know so.”

 

* * *

 

Hux stayed in the field for another two hours, watching Kylo and Rey work. At one point, they sat with Luke in silence and just meditated. Hux dozed idly while they did, on his back looking up at the sky until his eyes drifted closed. He woke to Kylo leaning over him, grinning.

“Hey,” Kylo said. “I’m going to go clean up. You want to come along?”

They went to the Sector 12 showers together, and Hux spent a good part of their bath on his knees with his mouth around Kylo’s cock while Kylo groaned his name, holding the back of his head. Kylo was so spent from training that his knees were shaking by the time he came, and he took a few minutes to lean against the wall of the cubicle to recover. Hux soaped him up as he did, steadying him as he stood under the spray of water. He reached between Hux’s legs to cup him, but Hux shook his head.

“Another time,” Hux said. “Just rest.”

When they were dressed again, they returned to the main compound for dinner. Kylo ate ravenously while Hux picked at his food, mostly uninterested in the rations. They were just finishing up when one of Leia’s aides appeared to summon them to the command center for a meeting with her.

When they arrived, they found not only her but Luke and Rey and Admiral Holdo as well. Hux and Kylo took seats at the table with them, Hux folding his hands on the tabletop, prepared to listen.

“Thank you for coming,” Leia began. “We have a great deal to discuss and not a lot of time to do it in. I’ve conferred with the commanders and we think we have a plan for Starkiller base.” She typed on the keyboard of her console and an image of the planet appeared at the center of the table.

Hux looked immediately at the compound, searching for the structures Phasma had described to him. As the base was small, it wasn’t hard to identify them.

“We’ve studied the plans for the base,” she said, “and decided that we have enough ground forces to stage an invasion. There wouldn’t be enough for a larger installation, but we can manage one this size.” She highlighted the westernmost hangar. “The main force will deploy here, with an auxiliary unit hitting the eastern hangar. The special tactics group will be pushing forward into the interior of the base to capture the the control room. The rest of the team will hold off the First Order troopers in the hangar and in the base’s corridors to keep them clear of the control room.”

She shifted the display to indicate that place near the center of the compound. “We don’t know what kind of defences we’re going to be facing inside the buildings, but we’re going as heavily armed as possible without hindering the movements of the soldiers. They need to be quick and agile to get around the base to suppress the enemy forces.”

“What kind of losses do you think we’ll take?” Kylo asked. “The First Order troopers are relentless and, as much as I hate to admit it, better trained.”

“And the forces at the base are specially conditioned,” Hux said. “They’re trained under one of the Order’s best commanders: my father, Brendol Hux.”

Leia nodded solemnly. “The former Captain Phasma said the same thing. We know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

Hux wasn’t so sure of that, but he held his tongue.

Leia continued, answering Kylo’s question, “We’re trying to keep casualties to a minimum, but this is ground warfare; we know we’re going to lose people.”

“How do you even plan to get into the base?” Kylo said. “Surely they have orbital defences.”

“They do,” said Holdo, bringing up a display of several large plasma cannons around the planet. “We’re bringing in well-armed ships and X-wing fighters to take them out. It’s the first phase of the attack. Once we make a hole in the defences, we can move the ground troops in.”

“It’s possible they will have brought in reinforcements,” Hux warned. “Star destroyers or frigates. TIE fighters, of course.” He didn’t know a great deal about space battle strategy, but he could assume his brother wouldn’t hold back in defending the base.

“We’re ready for that,” Holdo said, grave. “We’re prepared to deploy most of the fleet.”

Kylo said, “That’s a massive risk. If you lose enough ships, we’ll never be able to build back up at the rate the First Order can.”

“I know, Ben,” Leia sighed. “But this weapon could destroy the seat of the New Republic, with billions of lives lost. It’s worth the risk.”

Kylo scowled at the display of the planet, but didn’t argue. Hux had to agree with Leia; a hundred ships could be sacrificed to protect an entire star system.

“What’s the plan for us, then?” Kylo asked, looking to Rey and Luke. “We’ve got to get in to find Snoke.”

Luke took charge of the display, highlighting at small service entrance on the back side of the compound. “We’ll land here,” he said. “Just the three of us. Stealth is more important for us than the rest of the ground forces. The larger battles will distract from our entrance.”

“We shouldn’t have a problem getting through the corridors to Snoke’s chambers,” said Rey. “We can handle most troopers.”

“He’s going to sense us,” Kylo said darkly. “As soon as we get there, he’s going to know. He could send a whole platoon at us.”

Luke raised his brows. “Do you think he will?”

Kylo chewed his lower lip for a moment, but finally said, “No. I think he might clear the way, if anything. It’ll be like an invitation.”

Cold dread pooled in Hux’s gut. He had no idea what Kylo was about to walk into, but he was afraid it would be more than he could handle. He knew Kylo had his doubts, too.

“I assumed as much as well,” said Luke. “We can rely on his hubris to get us to him.”

“What then?” asked Kylo.

Rey replied, “Then we fight him, and we win.”

Leia moved to speak again. “We assume that if Snoke falls, the base is lost to the First Order. They’ll be leaderless and floundering.”

“What do you plan to do with Starkiller when you take control of it?” Hux said. He couldn’t imagine the Resistance turning it against any planets the Order occupied; they weren’t murders like the Order could be.

“Destroy it,” Holdo said. “Nothing like it should ever have existed.”

There was a pause where they all looked at the display of the planet. Hux wasn’t surprised that the Order had managed to build something like it. The Supreme Leader would, no doubt, do anything to destroy the New Republic. Once Hux would have appreciated that breed of viciousness, but now, free of the Order, he couldn’t see it as anything more than unnecessary savagery.

“I have a part in this,” he said, breaking the silence in the room. “But it’s my own mission.”

“Do you?” Leia asked, head tipped to the side inquisitively.

“I want to find my father,” Hux replied, “and kill him.”

To her credit, Leia’s expression remained unchanged, but Holdo was staring at him in open-mouthed horror.

“I see,” Leia said. “I can’t spare resources to help you, but I assume you wouldn’t accept them anyway.”

Hux shook his head. “No, General. I don’t need your troops. This is something I have to do alone. I ask only to ride down with your forces to the eastern hangar. I’ll go from there.”

Kylo was looking at him, his mouth tight with Hux assumed was displeasure. Hux would have reached for him if they were alone, but he did not, instead looking at him steadily, conveying his resolve.

“Very well,” said Leia. “We can get you there.”

“What else do we need to know?” Kylo asked.

“The rest of the logistics are up to you, Luke, and Rey,” Holdo said. “We’ll handle everything else.”

Kylo turned to his uncle. Luke said, “We’ll there’s not much more to know, Ben. We go tomorrow.”

“Understood,” Kylo said.

“That’s all for now,” said Leia. “We mobilize at 0600.” To Hux: “You can requisition what weapons and armor you need.”

“It’s not much,” Hux said. “But thank you.”

They all rose and Leia and Holdo went out, but Luke and Rey lingered.

“Is there more training we should do tonight?” Kylo asked.

“We could,” Luke replied, “but I believe you need this time to yourselves.” He glanced at Hux. “There’s your bond. You’ll need it when you’re apart tomorrow.”

Hux’s stomach tightened at that. It was possible everything would be different in just a few hours, or else the ritual could fail and his and Kylo’s relationship would be unchanged. As Kylo took his hand, though, he was reassured.

“Goodnight, then, Uncle,” Kylo said. “Rey.”

“See you in the morning,” she said, and they left.

Hux and Kylo stood together alone in the room, their hands still clasped together.

“Do you want to go?” Kylo asked. “We should be alone if we’re going to do this ritual.”

“Yes,” Hux replied. “Let’s go.”

Insects were singing in the fading evening light as they walked back to Sector 12. When they were well away from the main compound, Kylo said, “Are you sure you’re all right with this? We don’t have do it.”

“I’m sure,” Hux said firmly.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore, especially after what Luke had said. He and Kylo could rely on each other, and that gave Hux joy. He wanted to be needed and to give of himself as he hadn’t before; he wanted to show Kylo needs of his own.

Kylo held tight to his hand. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.”

Inside their hut it was still warm from the day and Kylo turned on the lamps to brighten the single room. Hux’s shadow was cast on the wood floor, long and dark. He moved his hand just to see the the movement mirrored by his double. Kylo’s merged with it as he came close and slipped an arm around Hux’s waist.

“There’s a couple ways we could do this,” he began. “All that matters is that I’m in contact with you. Do you want to sit, or maybe lie down?”

“Will it take long?” Hux asked.

Kylo wet his lips, seeming to consider the question. “I don’t really know. It depends on how hard it is to find your presence in the Force.”

Hux turned to him, studying his face. “How do you do that?”

“Well, I told you one time that if I concentrate, I can sense where you are on a ship or in a nearby room, right? It’s a little like that, but deeper.” He turned so he was facing Hux, his expression unreadable. “I have to dip into the flow of the raw Force and locate your energy there. A Force-sensitive would be able to seek me out, too, and meet in the middle, but because you can’t do that, I have to seek you out and then...merge our energies.”

Hux had no concept of what that would be like, as he couldn’t manipulate the Force or commune with it, but he nodded with as much comprehension as he could manage.

Kylo ran his fingertips down Hux’s upper arms gently. “Luke said there’s an element of coercion to it, like I have to sway you into coming with me. He said the Sith used to do it more than the Jedi because they were more willing to draw on that darker side of the Force to compel someone to join them. Nobody knows if it’s really true, but I guess their bonds were supposed to be stronger for it.”

“Do you need to enter my mind?” Hux asked. “You told me that it’s painful.” He wasn’t afraid; he only wanted to know what he getting himself into.

“Not exactly,” said Kylo. “I don’t actually want to control you; I want to find you in the Force and draw you into me.” He sighed. “I know it sounds odd, but it makes sense to me.”

Hux laid a hand on his chest, just above his heart. “Is there something I can do to make it easier to find my...presence?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. The only thing I can ask you to do is just relax and clear your mind. Maybe think of me.”

“That’s easy enough,” Hux said. “You’re often on my mind.”

Kylo smiled. “You’re on mine, too. And if this bond works, we’ll be able to sense that all the time.” He touched Hux’s jaw. “I really like that idea.”

“So do I,” said Hux. He glanced toward the bed. “Shall I lie down, then? It seems easiest.”

“Okay,” Kylo said. “Just get comfortable.” He removed his boots and his socks and then his shirt before crawling onto the bed and leaning against the headboard.

Hux undressed down to his trousers, too, and joined him. Kylo sat cross-legged and patted his thighs, inviting Hux to rest his head there. Hux lay down and looked up at him, waiting for further instruction.

Kylo placed his left hand over Hux’s brow. “I think that’ll work. Just breathe, I guess. Close your eyes?”

Hux did, steadying his inhales and exhales as he would have as he lined up a shot. It wasn’t true meditation, but it was as close at he got to it as a marksman. He focused on that for a while, feeling Kylo’s fingers shift minutely over his skin. He let the memory of Kylo sleeping the previous night come into his mind’s eye, projecting his fondness. Kylo had said he couldn’t read his mind without forcing his way inside, but he did it anyway, his affection on offer.

He lay in silence for a time, uncertain if he was supposed to be feeling anything in particular. Kylo was perfectly still above him, his hand lying quiet where he touched him. What did the Force feel like, he wondered. Kylo said it was all around them, but Hux sensed nothing. Perhaps this bond wouldn’t work after all.

He once again called up an image of Kylo, this one of him as he had been the first time Hux had gone to his quarters. Hux remembered crawling into his lap and putting his arms around him, touching him willingly for the first time. The memory of the thrill of contact was so clear and consuming that be barely noticed when he began to feel a kind of hazy interest fed back into his mind. It wasn’t part of his memory, but something foreign, if not unknown.

The sensation began to intensify as he continued to dwell on that moment: surprise, curiosity, lust. It seemed to complement his own feelings, but was completely distinct from them. He turned his attention there, teasing out what parts did not belong to him. As he pressed, interested, there was an overwhelming surge of wonder and happiness that filled him from the external source.

 _Kylo?_ he thought.

He got no direct answer, save for an enveloping warmth and tenderness. He embraced it, sending back his own devotion. Kylo had found him, it seemed, and Hux gave himself over, opening as best he could.

“ _Stars_ ,” Kylo whispered. “There you are.”

Hux opened his eyes to find Kylo looking down at him with a soft gaze.

Kylo said, “I found you.”

“I didn’t sense any coercion,” said Hux.

Kylo stroked his hair. “I barely had to use any. Your energy just...gave in.” He touched Hux’s cheeks, his chin, his lips. “Did you feel anything?”

“Not very much,” Hux replied. “Only your...emotions—memories, maybe? I assume you had already made the bond by then.”

Kylo’s approval flowed into him alongside his own satisfaction that it had worked.

“I think so,” Kylo said. “It wasn’t so hard to weave us together. There’s a connection there, now and always.”

Hux sat up slowly, shifting until he could sit in Kylo’s lap. He held him around his shoulders as he had done that first night, letting his passion for him move through the bond. Kylo breathed out, warm on Hux’s face, and he took him by the waist, his prosthetic hand cool against Hux’s side.

“I already love this,” he said. “Is it okay for you?” Hux sent his affirmation to him without words, and Kylo smiled. “You’re amazing.”

Hux smiled back. “And you,” he said as he kissed him.

 The desire flared between them immediately, this time matched in sensation. It struck Hux to feel the potency of Kylo’s eagerness, feeding his own. Their hunger surrounded them and had Hux desperate to get closer. Their embrace quickly devolved into Kylo lowering Hux to the bed and holding himself over him, only then breaking their kiss to press his mouth to Hux’s neck and collarbones, his chest. Hux wrapped his arms around Kylo’s back to hold him there.

“You’re so beautiful,” Kylo murmured against his shoulder, and he projected the awe to cement the point in Hux’s mind. “How did I end up with you, here with _me_?”

Hux projected a soothing sentiment, saying, “You’re good, Kylo, so good.” The deep sound of approval that elicited vibrated through Hux’s chest. He moved his hands to Kylo’s buttocks and squeezed. “Take these trousers off,” he bid him.

Kylo’s displeasure at letting him go was palpable, but underneath it was excitement at the prospect of getting them both naked. Hux, amused, suppressed a laugh: not that he wasn’t just as interested in that prospect.

They both fumbled out of their trousers in an unavoidably awkward way, until they were both bare and lying side-by-side over top of the sheets. Hux looked over Kylo’s body in appreciation, from his his long legs and broad chest to the thatch of dark hair between his thighs, where his cock was nestled. He was hard, and Hux couldn’t resist reaching for him. Kylo hummed as Hux stroked him up and down. Hux felt the pleasure roll off of him in waves.

“What do you want tonight?” Hux asked. He was willing to let Kylo take him, or the other way around; it made no matter to him.

“Can I be inside you?” Kylo said.

Hux squeezed him on an upstroke and said, “Of course.”

Releasing him, Hux went to the bedside table and retrieved the lubricant. He liked when Kylo took the time to open him up slowly, but he was in too much of a rush for that tonight. He wanted to be filled and to feel their shared emotions as they clung to each other. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t offer something for Kylo to enjoy while he took care of himself.

Rolling onto his knees, he slicked the fingers of his right hand and reached around to the cleft of his ass. He let a few drops of lubricant drip there before running his fingers down to his entrance. He circled his index finger there until he began to press it inside of himself. Kylo’s lust was potent in his mind as he sat behind Hux and watched him work himself open. Hux leaned down on his left elbow, presenting himself in a way that had Kylo desperately reaching out to grasp his buttocks, rubbing his palms over the soft skin. He held Hux open even further, planting a kiss at his tailbone. Hux slipped a second finger inside, moving them in and out in regular strokes, parting them to stretch himself.

“Incredible,” Kylo said as he moved down to cup Hux’s testicles, massaging them gently. Hux exhaled sharply, projecting his pleasure at the touch. “Oh, you really like that,” Kylo continued, still rolling Hux’s testicles with his fingers. Hux read Kylo’s yearning to please him and shuddered.

In need of more, Hux added a third finger and began to spread them with each push in and then out again. His body acclimated faster now, easy to make ready for Kylo’s cock. That lust went through the bond as clear as day and Kylo said, “ _Stars_ , I can’t believe you want me so much.”

“Very much,” said Hux. “And now. I’m ready.” He withdrew his fingers as he heard the _pop_ of the bottle’s lid. Only moments later, Kylo was lined up at his entrance and pushing inside. Hux groaned, open-mouthed, when he slid home.

“Hux,” Kylo said. “Hux.”

Hux’s fingers left a damp spot on the sheets as he splayed them to ground himself for each of Kylo’s thrusts. He hit hard and deep, shaking Hux to the core.

Through their bond, they exchanged their pleasure, swallowed up in the intensity of it. Hux reveled in Kylo’s demanding want and his own answering need. They were united in bodies and in their thoughts, whole in a way neither of them had ever been before.

Hux was able to feel as Kylo began to rise toward climax, but he wasn’t ready for it to end yet. “Turn me over,” Hux said. “I want to see you.”

Kylo did as he was told, pulling out to let Hux get onto his back. Taking hold of Hux’s ankles, he guided them up to rest on his shoulders before sliding back into Hux. He leaned in from there, nearly folding Hux in half as he began to move again.

Hux looked up into his face, seeing the high color in his cheeks and the hunger in his eyes. He gazed back, bracing his arms next to Hux’s head to bring them close enough to kiss. He nipped at Hux’s lips and nuzzled their noses together.

“You mean so much to me,” Kylo said, kissing him once more.

“And you to me,” Hux replied.

Kylo rose up then, giving Hux space enough to take hold of his own cock. It was clear enough what Kylo wanted without him having to say it. Hux used his still-slick hand to stroke himself, the relief and bliss filling him. He felt Kylo’s elation, too, as he drove deep into Hux, bringing himself back to the cusp of climax. Hux pushed himself to meet him, until they were there together.

“ _Kylo_ ,” Hux gasped as he went over the edge. Kylo went with him, both of their minds spiraling up into ecstasy. The power of it carried Hux away, leaving him at a loss for thoughts or words.

When, finally, they both regained control, Kylo pulled out of him and collapsed onto the mattress beside him. “That was...incredible.”

Hux could sense his satiation and projected his own. “Is that how it’s going to be from now on?” he asked.

Kylo glanced over at him. “I don’t know, but I really hope so.”

Hux chuckled. “I’m afraid if it’s like this all the time, I’ll never want to leave our bed.”

“Getting up is overrated,” Kylo said. “I’d love to spend all my time like this, with you.” He rolled over and wrapped his arm around Hux’s waist. “But duty calls.”

Sobering, Hux grasped his wrist. “Do you think you’re ready to face Snoke?”

“I could spend the rest of my life training and I’m not sure I would be,” Kylo replied. “But I’ve got Luke and Rey. Together we might be able to kill him. Are you ready to face your father?”

“Yes,” Hux said. “I’ve been waiting long enough, through enough attempts on my life, to kill him. I’ll never be more prepared than I am now.”

“If I were him, I’d be terrified. Lucky he doesn’t know what’s coming for him.”

“Whether or not he did, it changes nothing. But I’ll give him a clean death, if I can. It’s more than he deserves.”

Kylo sighed. “I shouldn’t be as supportive of patricide as I am, but I’ll take out anyone who wants you dead. I want to protect you tomorrow, but I know I can’t.” He rested his chin on Hux’s shoulder. “Just try to come back me.”

“I told you I would if it’s within my power,” Hux said. “I want to be with you.”

They lapsed into silence then, and Hux could feel it as Kylo began to drift into sleep. He was surely exhausted from the day. Hux extricated himself from his embrace only to turn off the lamps before returning to bed and Kylo.


	13. Kylo/Hux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written from both Kylo and Hux's points of view, so expect to switch a little more than halfway through.

Hux slept lightly, as Kylo discovered that first night they were bound; he seemed to always be hovering at the cusp of consciousness, even when he dreamt. Kylo couldn’t see his dreams clearly, but he read the impressions Hux got from them: interest, contentment, displeasure, confusion. It was fascinating and kept Kylo from sleep himself, for want of feeling more of it. He lay on his back, with Hux sleeping on his chest, just letting the shifting emotions and suggestions of concrete thoughts pass through his mind.

Luke had told him that two bound Force-sensitives often shared dreams, or visions, if they were inclined to them. Fully formed thoughts and conversations could be held between them without saying a word. They knew when the other was suffering or in danger, and they could share in joy and pleasure. At least Kylo knew there was something of that to his and Hux’s bond, even if it was muzzier than a traditional bond might be.

He had told Hux that it hadn’t been overly difficult to find his presence in the Force, and that was true. After Hux had closed his eyes and begun to breathe steadily, Kylo had started a meditation. Instead of centering on his own breath, though, he focused on Hux’s. Synced with him as best he could be, Kylo reached out into the Force and sought the energies near them. There were small animals rooting around in the grass outside their hut and insects were trilling in the trees. At first they were distracting, but Kylo pushed them away until he could draw himself into the room.

Hux’s connection to the Force was so tenuous that he thought it another flicker of an insect in the hut, but when Kylo sought it out, it flared brighter. He felt Hux’s breathing shift ever so slightly under the attention and he knew he had found him. There was nothing to see, but Kylo imagined extending his hand toward the energy to invite it closer. At first there was no response; it remained in place, unfazed by his interest. He didn’t allow himself to get frustrated or impatient, only trying again. A tendril of energy sparked out to touch his fingers and for a split second Kylo felt an emotion—fondness—that was not his own.

In his eagerness, he pushed too far and the feeling faded as if withdrawn in pain. He backed off then, recentering on Hux’s breathing before he made another attempt. With gentle insistence rather that hard coercion, he coaxed the fibers of the presence toward him, until they gave way and dangled like wet threads through his fingers. There was the fondness again, but this time more deeply layered: affection, interest, and even a tendril of lust. Kylo tugged at that thread until a poorly filtered image filled his mind’s eye.

It was grainy and grey, like some of the memories Kylo had extracted from others’ heads with the Force before, but there was Hux, sitting in Kylo’s lap on the Ryden 2 station the first night he had been aboard. Hux was thinking of it tenderly, as a good memory. Elated at seeing and feeling him, Kylo let his own admiration crest and break over that he could sense from Hux. He got it back in kind with a nearly silent but discernible question: _Kylo?_

Kylo was caught up in the rush of pleasure and affection shared between them. With the hand he envisioned, he drew the threads of Hux’s energy into his own, fusing them. The sensations only intensified, and Kylo, with wonder, said, “ _Stars_. There you are.” Hux took a short, startled breath, jarring them both but not breaking the connection. That was permanent, now. Kylo looked down at him until he slowly opened his eyes.

“I found you,” Kylo had said.

Hux’s gaze had been relaxed and sleepy, but sharpened as he had said, “I didn’t sense any coercion.”

Kylo had said he hadn’t used much; Hux had come to him without resistance. Hux had crept into his lap again and kissed him. The bond allowed them to exchange sensations as they undressed each other and touched. And when Kylo had slid into him, he had felt it like he was being filled as well. They had rocked together, focused only on one another, until they peaked. In the aftermath, the toll of the day of training and then the ritual had hit Kylo hard, and before the light was even out, he was drifting off. He didn’t linger long in sleep, though, as he began to sense Hux’s feelings through the bond.

Daybreak came eventually. Kylo lay facing Hux, who was on his side with his hand tucked under his cheek, his mouth slightly open. He was projecting contentment, his dreams having settled. Kylo’s chronometer read 0347, nearing the time when he had agreed to meet Rey and Luke for his final training. He was nervous and tense, Hux’s calm the only soothing feeling in his mind.

Touching Hux’s cheek, he said, hushed, “Hey.”

Hux didn’t jolt awake, but he was clearly surprised. It took him a moment to focus his eyes on Kylo before he relaxed.

“Sorry to wake you up,” Kylo continued. “I have to go soon. I just wanted to say goodbye before I went.”

Growing more alert, Hux shifted toward him. “Did you get some rest?” he asked.

“Some,” Kylo replied. The tiredness still weighed on him, but he tried not to let it show.

Hux looked him over sternly. “You can’t hide it from me anymore. I feel it. Why didn’t you sleep?”

Kylo didn’t want to say that it was Hux’s doing—it really wasn’t; he hadn’t done it on purpose—but he couldn’t lie, either. “It was the connection. It was fascinating. I didn’t want to sleep and lose it.”

“I felt it, too,” Hux said. “Like I was never quite alone in my head.”

“Does it bother you?” Kylo asked.

Hux shook his head minutely. “It’s fine. We’ll be accustomed soon.” He tapped Kylo on the breastbone. “But you have to sleep. Let me go and make your excuses to your uncle and Rey. I’ll leave you to rest. Maybe it’ll be easier if I’m not here.”

“Maybe,” said Kylo, “but I have to train. We have to make the final plans. I’ll be all right.” He hoped he would be, anyway.

“Very well,” Hux said. “You know yourself better than I know you.”

Kylo took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the fingertips. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Hux curled his hand into Kylo’s, holding him fast. “Are you afraid?”

“Yes,” Kylo said, without hesitation.

“I’m afraid _for_ you,” said Hux. “I don’t want to lose you. And I can’t do anything to protect you from Snoke.”

Kylo sighed. “I know.” He gathered Hux to him and gave him a lingering kiss. “I should go. I’ll find you before we leave.”

Hux moved to sit up. “I’m getting up, too. I have weapons to requisition, and I need to meet with the crew of the ship I’ll be taking down to the surface. They should be aware that I won’t be working with them.” He frowned. “They probably won’t like it.”

“There’s nothing they can do about it,” said Kylo. “And if they complain, tell them the orders come from my mother.”

“They don’t,” Hux said, lifting a brow.

Kylo shrugged. “They don’t know that. If it gets them on your side, do it. I don’t want one of them getting the wrong idea and shooting you in the back.” He doubted the Resistance troops would care enough about a single former stormtrooper, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.

“I’ll deal with them,” said Hux. He rolled over to his side of the bed and sat at the edge to stretch his back and shoulders.

Kylo enjoyed the view of the lithe muscles and bones moving beneath his skin. Unable to resist, Kylo went and kissed a trail up his spine to the nape of his neck. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

“Get dressed,” Hux said, though he was projecting pleasure and warmth through their bond at the compliment.

Kylo gave him a last kiss behind the ear before getting out of bed and walking naked to the sink to wash his face. The water was lukewarm, but refreshing enough. Toweling off, he sought his clothes. He had chosen utilitarian blacks and greys, soft boots he could creep quietly in. He would stand out from Rey and Luke, who would no doubt wear their beige and brown pseudo-robes. He didn’t mind the stark difference, though; he wasn’t what they were and Snoke knew it.

He and Hux left the hut together, making their way across the base to where their appointed places were.

“See you soon,” Kylo said as they parted.

Hux went away toward the armory, where the requisitions officer would be waiting. Kylo turned away from him to go to the training field. Luke was already there, though Rey had not yet appeared.

“Good morning, Uncle,” said Kylo.

Luke replied, “Ben. You didn’t sleep well.”

Kylo gave an annoyed grunt. “I had other things on my mind.” When Luke gave him an inquisitive look, he continued, “It worked. The bond.” If he paid attention, he could still sense Hux, even at a distance.

“Good,” Luke said, and that was that.

Rey came into the clearing then, her saber hilt already in her hand. “Should we get started?” she asked.

Kylo unclipped his own saber from his belt and, for once, Luke produced his. He fell into line with Kylo and Rey, powering the weapon on. They engaged their own blades and took up middle guard. Kylo opened himself to the Force and found the both of them there. Together, they began the kata.

Rey and Luke moved in perfect sync through all of the poses, leaving Kylo to try to keep up. He did a fair enough job, but knew he wasn’t as elegant as they were—always a few seconds behind. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. When they were in the heat of combat, they would rely on their own abilities first and foremost.

“Snoke will likely focus on you,” Luke said when they were finished with the katas. “You are most susceptible to him from your history and from the chinks in the armor of your training.”

“Lack thereof,” said Kylo.

Rey came up beside him, for once not teasing or mocking as she said, “You’ll be okay. We’re there to back you up.”

Kylo offered her a small smile. “Is it bad to say I’m a little excited to fight with you?”

“No,” she replied. “I always looked up to you when I used to watch you practice. You’re still really good. I’m glad to fight with you.”

They both looked to Luke, who was standing quietly by, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves. “I’m proud of you both,” he said. “You may have chosen different lives, but we’re all here together, now. We’ll succeed.”

Kylo sincerely hoped so. “Should we get ready to go?” he asked.

Luke nodded. “We’ll be taking Rey’s and my ship, rather than yours, Ben.”

The _Arrow_ was faster and quieter than their wreck of a ship, but Kylo wasn’t inclined to put it at unnecessary risk. He was fond of his freighter and he tried not to think of what would become of it if he didn’t return from this mission. Leia would likely find someone else to man the Ryden 2 station and take up Kylo’s former role, however he would hate to see the _Arrow_ passed to them, too. And 1H. He was admittedly attached to the little medical droid and would be sorry not to see it again. Hux seemed inclined to it, too, which Kylo appreciated.

“Fine,” Kylo said. “You want me to fly?”

“In your dreams,” said Rey. “She’s mine.”

Kylo chuckled. “My mistake.”

The three of them made their way across the compound to where their little ship was waiting. People were bustling around the landing pads making last-minute checks of the X-wings and other transports. Platoons of soldiers were at the ready, all of them dressed and armed for combat. Kylo didn’t want to consider how many of them would not be returning—and whether he would come back, too.

Leia was making the rounds, speaking to groups of soldiers, and the pilots, too. She would be flying with the flagship commanded by Admiral Holdo, leading the charge toward Starkiller’s orbital defenses. When she spotted Kylo, Luke, and Rey she made her excuses to the current troop commander she had been talking to and made her way to them. She was outfitted in fatigues, just as any other Resistance fighter would be.

“Are you ready?” she asked without preamble.

“We are,” Luke replied. “We’ll be in the midst of the fleet waiting for a hole in the defenses.”

“I’ve assigned Poe and his squadron to you,” Leia said. “To provide cover until you get planetside.” Luke looked as if he was about to protest, but she raised a hand to stop him. “It won’t draw too much attention. You need protection. There will be enough of a battle going on around you to let you slip through.” She eyed him sternly. “Don’t argue, Luke.”

“Very well,” he said. “I won’t.”

Leia turned to Kylo, this time with the face of a mother rather than a general. “Be careful, Ben.”

“I will,” Kylo promised. “You, too, all right?”

She smiled. “I can’t promise anything.”

“ _Leia_ ,” Rey said, warning. “Don’t say that.”

Leia reached out and took Rey’s hand. “Be brave, Rey, and we’ll come out this.” Soberly, she fell back a step. “I need to get to my ship. You’re going to go comms quiet?”

“We’ll stay in touch with Poe throughout,” said Luke, “but otherwise we’ll be on our own. Good luck, Leia.”

“And to you.” With that she turned and left them, striding quickly across the tarmac.

Kylo watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the hangar. It was possible it would be the last time he saw her. _Force protect her_ , he thought.

“Kylo,” he heard in Hux’s familiar accent. He whirled, finding Hux a few paces away. He was in light Resistance armor—a durplass breastplate and strongly woven fatigues—and had a blaster holstered on his thigh. It was the one he had taken from Kylo’s little arms cabinet. A larger blaster rifle was slung across his body by a thick strap, and he had a knife sheathed at his waist. He looked every inch the soldier he was.

“Hux,” Kylo said, going to him. He drew him in for a kiss, though it was difficult to hold him around all the weapons he was carrying. His lips were soft and gave under Kylo’s. “You look good,” Kylo said when they parted.

Hux huffed. “It doesn’t matter how I look, only that I’m prepared.”

“No sniper rifle?” Kylo asked.

“Too close of quarters in the base,” Hux replied. “These things will have to suffice.” He touched the lightsaber hilt at Kylo’s hip. “Is this all you’re taking?”

“It’s all I’ll need,” said Kylo.

Hux cupped his cheek with a warm hand, and Kylo felt his concern. “Take care, and come back to me.”

Kylo projected his deep affection. “You, too.” He gave him a last kiss. “See you on the other side.”

“Yes,” said Hux as he retreated.

Even after he had gone, Kylo could sense loneliness, fear. Hux didn’t want to be alone again, and neither did Kylo.

A siren began to howl, announcing the deployment of the fleet. A good number of battleships were already in orbit, but the troop transports and fighters were the ones to fire up their engines now and take off. The whole planet seemed to rumble as they began to rise up from the landing pads.

“Come on,” said Luke to Kylo. “Let’s get going.”

Kylo went aboard the little ship and strapped himself into one of the seats behind the cockpit. Luke chose one beside him, allowing Rey to pilot alone. The ship shuddered as it ascended, but steadied under her practiced hands when they left the atmosphere behind. There were no viewports to see out of, but Kylo heard over the comms: “This is Poe Dameron hailing. Do you copy, Rey?”

“Affirmative,” she said. “We’re ready to jump to hyperspace when you are.”

“Understood. We’ll follow your lead.”

Rey called back to Luke and Kylo, “Brace for the jump.”

Kylo leaned his head back against the headrest of his seat and closed his eyes. The acceleration pushed him into the chair, but then it was over, the ship settling into the rush of hyperspace. Rey appeared from the cockpit, going to a nearby cabinet and retrieving three ration bars and bottles of water. It wasn’t much, but Kylo’s stomach was roiling; he wasn’t craving more than that.

“We’ve got about three hours in transit,” Rey said, handing him his meager breakfast. “We should do a meditation.”

“Food first,” said Kylo. He unwrapped the bar and bit a quarter of it, chewing methodically.

Luke and Rey ate, too, in silence. When they were finished, Rey put their trash into the compactor and sat on the durasteel floor of the cabin. Kylo unbuckled his restraints and joined her there, legs crossed and palms on his thighs.

“We shouldn’t push too hard,” Rey said to him, “but another test of your mental barriers is in order, I think.”

Kylo sighed, anticipating the assault on his thoughts. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Just get it over with.”

Her attacks weren’t as pointed as Luke’s were. He was stronger in that that she was, but fighting them both off was excruciating. Kylo erected the strongest barriers he could muster in the few seconds before she began to push into his head. Her insistent needling was challenging to counter because she hit many points in his defenses at once. Luke’s attacks were more pointed and powerful, centered around the weakest point he could find in Kylo’s mind. He applied his own pressure as Rey did and Kylo tried to force them back.

He managed to hold out for twenty minutes before they finally broke him, leaving him panting and exposed. He leaned on his knees as he tried to gather himself. It was a better showing than he had given two days ago, but it still wasn’t as impressive as it should have been. He was going to be at Snoke’s mercy if he tried to bypass his barriers and somehow influence him. After all, it had been Snoke who had taught Ben Solo to coerce others.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked.

Kylo nodded, though he still hung his head. “Am I going to be a liability? Do you think he’ll be able to manipulate me?” He swallowed. “If he turns me against you, you’ll have to kill me.”

“No,” said Rey, whispered. “It won’t come to that.”

“Promise me you will,” Kylo said, looking up at her. “I won’t be a tool for Snoke.”

Rey chewed her lower lip, but said, “I promise.”

Luke spoke next: “Why don’t you get some rest, Ben? There’s a cot aft.”

Kylo wasn’t about to argue. He thought he might be too keyed up to sleep, but the exhaustion lingered at the back of his mind enough to assure him that he could. Getting up, he went to the stern of the little ship and lay down on the narrow cot. He folded his hands over his chest and, closing his eyes, drifted off.

 

* * *

 

He knows he’s asleep, but his mind’s eye is open to a white landscape—snow and frigid, cutting wind blowing around him. There is a stand of bare-branched trees at his back, but in front of him is a door coated in frost, clearly unopened in some time. As he watches it, though, it swings open in invitation. Kylo goes through to find himself in a narrow service corridor. It’s less chilly here, but not by much; this place isn’t meant for comfort.

He walks down the corridor about twenty paces before he reaches another door, this one unlocked. Through it is a wider passage, lit by sallow illuminators. He can go left or right, but he feels a pull toward the left and goes that way. There is no one else in the corridor as he goes along it, but there’s an undeniable presence leading him toward a certain goal. He knows where he is: Starkiller base, and it’s Snoke in his mind again, guiding him to the place where they’ll meet.

Kylo commits the route to memory as he follows the summons through various turns, narrow passages and wider, until he arrives at a set of massive reinforced durasteel doors. They’re unmarked, but he knows where he is: Snoke’s lair. One of the doors opens silently, offering him entrance.

The room inside is cavernous and the stone ceiling deliberately unfinished, like the upper reaches of a cave. At the far end of a raised walkway is a throne of sorts, blocky in its construction and upon a high dais. There is no one in it now, but Kylo knows that Snoke will be waiting for him here when he and Luke and Rey arrive. He starts when from the shadows come six figures, hooded and masked. Kylo reaches for his saber, but it’s absent. The Knights of Ren do not attack, but approach him and kneel.

“They could be yours,” Snoke whispers in Kylo’s head. “They will serve you faithfully if you let them.”

Kylo regards them with disdain and that’s answer enough. They rise again, this time brandishing weapons: a bladed staff, energy blades, explosive charges. Kylo stands ready to face them, but he’s startled out of the vision before they can attack.

 

* * *

 

“Ben,” Luke said, waking him with a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here.”

Kylo blinked away the vestiges of sleep and sat up. “I know where we have to go when we get there,” he said. At Luke’s frown he added, “He showed me.”

Luke shook his head. “This is going to be dangerous for you.”

“I know,” said Kylo.

Getting to his feet, he approached the cockpit, where he could see a small world just outside the viewport. A pair of X-wings were flying in front of their little ship, guarding them. However, Kylo had the feeling they wouldn’t need them; Snoke would let them pass.

“We’re closing in,” Rey said into the comms. “I have their orbital cannons on my sensors, but they’re not trained on us.” She glanced back at Kylo. “Are we being welcomed in?”

Kylo swung into the copilot’s seat, saying grimly, “I think so. Tell Poe to back off.”

“I heard you, Ben,” Poe said over their shared frequency. “Are you sure about this?”

“Sure as I’m going to be,” Kylo replied.

“We’ll see you past the cannons and then you’ll be on your own.”

Poe was presumably in the lead of the formation, so he took point and sped them toward the massive plasma weapons that orbited Starkiller. Their durasteel casings reflected the nearby sun, but they weren’t prepared to fire. The fighters and ship passed through them without resistance.

“Okay, Dameron,” said Rey. “We’re through. You’re free the join the main force. Thanks for the escort.”

“Understood,” Poe said. “Stay safe.”

“You, too,” said Kylo.

The X-wings bugged out toward wherever the battle was. On their private comm frequency, Kylo couldn’t hear any of the chatter of the ships engaged. He hoped his mother was safe in her destroyer, and Hux, too. His presence in the Force was weaker, but he was still a flame in Kylo’s chest.

Rey deftly navigated the ship through the the thin atmosphere of the planet, following the coordinates for the service tunnel they would enter through, the one that had been in Kylo’s dream. The landing repulsors disturbed the snow on the ground, throwing it onto the viewport and obscuring it. The ship shuddered as it set down. Immediately, Rey cut the engine.

“No point in waiting around,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and heading aft. Kylo followed her, meeting Luke amidships.

They weren’t dressed for the cold, but they wouldn’t be out in it for long. The door slid open with a blast of icy air and snow. Kylo touched the saber hilt at his belt to ensure it was there, and then jumped out onto the ground.

The small service door was frozen, but Kylo used the Force to engage the iced mechanisms to open it. He led, since he knew the way. They crept through the corridor in silence, and when they reached the door to the larger passageway, Kylo laid his hand on the door to scan for beings outside. There was nothing. He disengaged the lock and they passed into the main base. From where they were, they couldn’t hear if there was a fight going on elsewhere, but Kylo didn’t expect that the landing force had arrived yet. Those orbital cannons were nothing to scoff at and, if Hux was right, there would be star destroyers armed heavily and TIE fighters to contend with before the troop transports could even be deployed. But it wasn’t Kylo’s concern—not right now.

“This way,” he said to Rey and Luke, setting off along the path Snoke had outlined for him. He took his saber into his right hand, thumb over the button to engage the blade. He was ready if they did stumble across any stormtroopers or base officers.

They were just coming around the first right turn when an alarm began to sound, red lights flashing from the ceiling overhead. Kylo tensed, reaching out with the Force to search for life again, rather than listening for footfalls, which would be masked by the blaring alarm.

“Incoming,” he said as he sensed three humans approaching. He drew his saber and waited.

They were officers, he saw, as they appeared from a doorway. They were scrambling to attend to the alarm, their little black caps over their heads and sleek uniforms immaculate.

“They’re unarmed,” Rey said. “Young, too. We shouldn’t—”

“I know,” Kylo hissed. “Let me deal with them.” He retracted the blade of his saber and stepped out into their path. They stopped dead in front of him, clearly not expecting to see someone in civilian clothes.

“Who the kriff are you?” the woman demanded. “This is a restricted area.”

Kylo waved a hand, saying, “There’s no one here. You saw no one.”

All three of the officers’ eyes grew a little hazy with the coercion. It was alway uncanny to hear them speak in unison: “There’s no one here. We saw no one.”

“Go away now,” Kylo said. “And don’t come back here.”

Trancelike, they fell into step together, marching past Kylo and then Luke and Rey without noticing them. It was so easy to do on such weak minds.

“Come on, then,” Luke said when they were gone. “We should keep moving.”

Cold, Kylo nodded and trotted off down the hall once more. They weren’t interrupted again before they reached the double doors of Snoke’s inner sanctum. Kylo wasn’t certain whether to expect them to just open, but Luke and Rey came to his sides to flank him.

“I’ll see to it,” said Luke. Raising his hands, he pushed out with the Force and doors went flying in, the durasteel warping. Immediately, the noise of the alarm died away, leaving them in complete silence.

Kylo stepped forward first, onto the raised walkway. It was shadowy inside, but right away he could sense the raw power emanating from the being seated on its throne. The air almost smelled of it, crackling and metallic.

“Welcome, Kylo Ren.”

From the corner of his eye, Kylo saw movement in the darkness. In an instant his saber was at the ready, and from behind him he heard Rey’s and Luke’s engage, too. The knights came to the sides of the walkway, their weapons near but not brandished.

“You’re hasty to attack, Ren,” Snoke said, his voice clear and ringing despite his still-murky form across the room. “You don’t need to fight them. They’re at your disposal.”

“I told you I don’t want them,” Kylo spat. “I don’t want anything from you. I never did.”

“On the contrary,” said Snoke. “I believe you learned a great deal from me, even if not everything. You wouldn’t be as strong as you are if you were completely committed to the light side.” He gave a harsh, barked laugh. “Like you, Luke Skywalker. You know the bounds of your vows to stay in the light. You are aware of your weaknesses.”

“Everyone has weaknesses,” Luke said. “You do.”

“Ah, but can you identify them?” Snoke taunted. “You know nothing about me.”

“We don’t have to know everything to put you down,” Rey snarled. “We’re prepared to fight the dark side. That’s what you are.”

Snoke said, “You are young and rash, girl. I have been practicing the ways of the Force since your forebears were infants. You don’t stand a chance against me.”

“Try me,” she said.

Kylo gestured to her to back down. “It’s either you or us, Snoke,” he said. “We won’t let you walk out of here.”

“A pity,” Snoke said. To the knights: “Kill them.”

They closed in on the trio in a rush of black robes, the only sounds the hissing of their energy weapons and the echoing of feet on stone. The first of them came for Kylo, wielding a polearm with a sharp energy blade at the end. The knight swung it out in a deadly arc, nearly catching Kylo in the middle. He jumped back, too far away to hit the knight with his saber.

“Behind you!” Rey called.

Kylo whirled just in time to counter the blows from a pair of twin daggers, each one sharpened to a deadly edge. His saber seared them black, but they didn’t melt under the heat of it. With a grunt, Kylo landed a kick in the middle of the knight’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, allowing Kylo to chase him with eager bloodlust. He was stopped, though, by a flashbang that temporarily blinded him. He faltered, trying to clear his vision.

A binding came around his right wrist, yanking his arm to the side and knocking his saber from his hand. The hilt skittered across the floor, disappearing over the edge of the walkway. Kylo contorted himself to face his attacker: a knight holding the butt end of a whip, the wicked tip of which was wrapped around his arm, holding him fast. He was lucky it had found the prosthetic, otherwise it would have cut into his skin.

The knight pulled Kylo toward him, his boots skidding across the slick floor, but Kylo reached out with the Force and tore the whip’s handle from the knight’s hand. It flew toward him and he caught it with his left hand, freeing himself from the binding. He threw the whip aside. His saber was still gone; he had only the Force as his weapon.

Both he and knight reached out for each other at the same moment. Kylo felt the pressure of an opposing Force attack, but his strength was greater. He shoved the knight back and off the walkway. He sprinted after him, jumping down onto the gritty floor of the chamber. The knight was lying on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Kylo didn’t hesitate; he wrapped the Force around the knight’s neck and snapped it.

Leaving the limp body where it lay, Kylo ran to retrieve his lightsaber, engaging the blade again. He sprang back up onto the walkway and turned to where Luke and Rey were fighting. They were engaged with two of the knights, but the others weren’t far off, ready to set upon them at any moment. Spinning his saber, Kylo charged into the fray, catching the robe of one of the nearest knights and singeing the fabric. The knight managed to evade the blow, but only barely. Kylo renewed his attack, doubling back with ferocity.

The sizzling of saber blades striking metal and cracking energy filled the chamber. Kylo was panting with the effort of fighting, but the knights seemed tireless. Rey cut one down and he fell with a guttural cry, the great wound that nearly hewed him in two cauterized and spilling no blood. Luke used the Force to pull another knight to him, driving his saber into its heart. They were a whirlwind together, cutting down their enemies until only three remained.

Together with Kylo, they formed up, back-to-back as the knights circled them. Kylo breathed heavily through his mouth, his hair hanging damp around his face. If he looked as wild as he felt, he could imagine he was intimidating in his intensity.

“Well?” Rey said, demanding. “Are you going to fight us or not?” She held the hilt of her saber in both hands, at the ready.

It was the knight nearest Luke who lunged first, lashing out with his blades to meet Luke’s saber. The knight was taller and broader than Luke, but Luke didn’t give under the attack. He pushed back, his saber sparking as it slid along the blades. Kylo could sense others’ attention on them, so he used their momentary distraction and surged forward, plowing his shoulder directly into one of the knight’s chests.

The knight was solid and only fell back a step or two, but it gave Kylo time to swing his saber up above his head and down onto the knight’s shoulder. The knight screamed—distinctly feminine—and fell to her knees, clutching at the place where are arm had been. Had she been the one to sever Kylo’s? It didn’t really matter, in the end. Kylo paused only for a moment to let her look at him at last time before he slew her with one hard slash of his saber. Her body crumpled before him.

Quiet descended upon the chamber, where Rey, Luke, and Kylo now stood, unharmed. Kylo caught his breath, letting the black tunnel of his vision recede. He thrived on the rage of battle, but knew he had to get control of himself before he could school his mind to face Snoke. Searching briefly for Hux’s presence in the Force, he centered himself. Slowly, Kylo turn toward the dais.

“What now, Snoke?” he asked. “Will you come down and face us yourself?”

There was no immediate reply, but Kylo’s head filled in an instant with splitting pain. His saber clattered to the ground as he clutched at his temples. Snoke’s previous attempts to enter his mind had been nothing compared to this; this was excruciating. He cried out, tears falling down his face.

“Let go of him!” Rey yelled. With a deft spin of her saber, she ran forward. She made it only ten paces before she skidded to a halt and dropped her weapon. She rose up into the air until her toes were barely touching the ground. She screamed.

Kylo’s vision was red from the agony, but he could distantly hear Luke calling out to Snoke, daring him to take him, too. For a moment, the pressure in Kylo’s mind abated and he saw the chamber fill with electric light. Bolts shot from Snoke’s fingers to where Luke was standing. It arced around him but didn’t strike. Kylo knew he had learned to counter that power years ago, after nearly succumbing to Emperor Palpatine. Luke had put his saber away and stood at the center of the walkway, unaffected by the lightning.

“Kill him,” came Snoke’s voice in Kylo’s head. “Kill him for me, Ren.”

Kylo fought back with every ounce of his remaining strength, but his barriers were falling fast. If Snoke got control of him, he might do just fail, give his mind over, and turn against Luke and Rey. Trembling, Kylo reached out for his abandoned saber. He staggered a step ahead, until he could reach it. He nearly fell, but he managed to get a hold of it. His movements were jerky and mechanical as those of a malfunctioning droid, and yet he pressed onward to the throne.

In the distance, Snoke came into view. He was a standing on the dais, nearly a meter taller than Kylo and dressed in golden robes. His face was a sunken ruin, twisted with scars, one cheek almost completely hollow. He looked out through black eyes set deep beneath bare brows.

“Why do you fight it, Ren?” he spoke aloud, ignoring Luke’s presence and Rey’s, even if she was still held fast in his Force grip. “Give in, and I’ll let your friends live.”

Kylo snarled, “I won’t,” as he continued his labored walk ahead. The pain throbbed and Snoke’s influence made his will waver dangerously.

Snoke extended a hand and twisted his wrist. Rey screamed again, her body contorting.

“I can kill her with a thought,” Snoke said. “Is that what you want?”

“Let her go,” Luke called. “Take me instead.”

Snoke laughed. “That would be too easy. It will be my pleasure to kill her while you watch.”

Kylo reached out for her where she was suspended, exerting his will. _Let her go. Let her go._ Snoke’s power was significant, but when Kylo pushed with everything he could muster, his hold gave way. Rey fell, Luke just managing to catch her before she collapsed. Barely conscious, she leaned against him for support.

In retaliation, Snoke came for Kylo full force, slicing through his mind with unrelenting determination. Kylo groaned as the pain radiated throughout his body. He was forced to stop, unable to take another step forward.

“You’ll not take him,” Luke said. Rey was standing on her own, but wavered. To Kylo he said: “Take strength from us.”

Within the Force, Kylo felt a surge of power bolstering his own. Luke and Rey were supporting his mental barriers, allowing him to push back against Snoke and move again. Kylo let them flow through him, the three of them united. His thoughts began to clear and he regained control of his body. The blade of his saber illuminated the dais and Snoke’s shattered features.

“ _No_ ,” Snoke growled. “You will not get the better of me, you weak, pathetic—”

“ _Shut up_!” Kylo boomed. He emphasized his words with a determined push into Snoke’s mind. For the first time, he got a glimpse of the darkness and deep avarice that dwelled there. But so too was there a measure of loneliness. He had sought Kylo as an apprentice to assuage that, in part. He had been unattended for many, many years. But Kylo would not give him that companion and apprentice he wanted. No, Snoke would die alone—here, now.

Driving toward that kernel of isolation, Kylo’s push had Snoke faltering and, in that split second, Kylo struck. He cut across Snoke’s narrow waist with his saber, severing him in two. Immediately, the feedback from Snoke’s thoughts went dead, leaving Kylo with just Rey and Luke and his own consciousness. Exhausted, Kylo fell to his knees, retracting the blade of his saber. He hung his head, trying to catch his breath. Just in front of him lay Snoke’s broken body.

“Ben,” Rey said quietly, as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Kylo looked up to see her beside him. Her eyes were sunken and dull, but she was on her feet. Luke was a step behind her, seemingly equally spent.

“I think I’ll live,” Kylo said. Despite sobriety of the situation, he laughed. At last, he was free.

“It’s done now,” said Luke. “We can go.”

Kylo peered at him. “And just leave the rest of the Resistance to fight here alone?”

Rey squeezed his shoulder. “Are you really up to another battle? We’ll go to them. You can rest.”

Kylo opened his mouth to protest, but as he did, he felt a lance of fear piece his heart. It wasn’t his, but Hux’s. Delving deep, Kylo tried to read what was wrong. He couldn’t make it out, but he knew he was needed. He lurched to his feet, saber in hand, and said, “I have to find Hux. He’s in danger.”

“You can barely stand up,” Rey protested. “Go back to the shuttle.”

He shook his head, channeling the anxiety from Hux so he could find him. “He needs me.”

Luke drew Rey back. “Let him do it.” Touching Kylo’s shoulder, he said, “Good luck.”

Kylo broke into a jog and then a flat-out run as he went down the walkway and through the doors. He could hear the sounds of combat now, but he didn’t stop. He tore down the corridor, bound for where Hux was.

 

* * *

 

Hux wasn’t certain how long their transit time was from D’Qar to the Unknown Regions, but he spent it running over the floorplan of Starkiller and the route he would have to take from the easternmost hangar to his father’s office. Ambiently, in his chest, though, was Kylo’s presence, their tie together. It was a grounding sensation rather than a distracting one, and he was already growing accustomed to the fullness of it inside him.

Their parting had been brief and, while they had kissed deeply, neither had said his goodbyes. They were walking into something from which neither of them might return, but it didn’t seem necessary to say the words; it was understood.

After he had left Kylo by Luke Skywalker’s ship, Hux had gone to the transport he had been assigned, on the far side of the tarmac: a blocky ship with a blunt nose and a steep, wide viewport. He had introduced himself to the pilots earlier in the day, while Kylo had been training. Both young women had heard about him through the various rumor-mongering networks around the base, but they hadn’t objected when he had told them he would be joining them on their drop run.

“You can ride in the navigator’s seat,” one of them, Andrya, had told him. “It will keep you out of the way of the rest of the troops, but you’ll still be able to get out fast.” She had eyed him, hands on her hips. “You sure you really want to go rushing in all alone?”

Hux had said, “Yes, but thank you for your concern.”

She had chuckled. “Sure thing.”

The navigator’s seat was forward of the main compartment but aft of the cockpit, a narrow chair facing an outdated console screen where the maps would presumably have been displayed were there a formal navigator for this mission. Hux had sat there just before the troops were loaded into the belly of the transport, forgoing the restraints and just arranging the weapons he wore.

The blaster rifle was designed for close combat, with a short barrel and thick stock for keeping balance while one ran. Hux was prepared to use it to cut his way through the hangar during the initial drop, but expected to rely more on the sidearm he had taken from Kylo’s ship weeks ago after he got beyond it. He would be moving swiftly and discreetly through the base, where a rifle wouldn’t be needed. If it came down to it, too, he had the stout knife from requisitions.

The roaring thrusters of the shuttle put off a great deal of heat and with the close press of bodies in the transport, the air was heavy with the smell of burning fuel and the humidity of nervously exhaled breath. Hux knew that some of these troops had never seen a fight before. They were Core-worlders who probably attended good schools on their home planets and had families that had expected them to become anything but soldiers. But here they were, and Hux had to admire that kind of courage.

From his chair, he could see only their backs, their helmeted heads. They were standing, steadying themselves with handholds fastened to the overhead. All was quiet and still as Hux looked at them, and then, suddenly, they lurched the side.

“Brace for evasive action!” the pilot called over the intercom. “We’re entering the combat zone.”

Hux took his own handhold and held himself rigid in his chair. The ship pitched to starboard and port, sometimes slowing and others pushing its thrusters as hard as they could go. Hux couldn’t hear the comm chatter over the din, but if he leaned far enough, he could just see into the cockpit and through the viewport.

The sky was filled with ships of all sizes, from TIE fighters spitting green energy bolts to a star destroyer in the distance, its large cannons firing at the Resistance armada. One frigate was already burning, severed amidships. Hux couldn’t make out any escape pods. An X-wing soared by just ahead with guns free, preventing a TIE fighter from hitting the transport. There were larger weapons, too: a perimeter of massive cannons that spewed red plasma. One of the other transports was struck, leaving only twisted wreckage behind.

“Hang on back there!” said the pilot. “We’re going in!”

Hux was jolted and thrown forward as the ship sped ahead again. He didn’t bother to try to catch a glimpse of where they were going—they would either make it, or they wouldn’t; nothing for him to do about it. Closing his eyes, he focused on his sense of Kylo. It was faint at such a significant distance, but still present.

They made a shuddering descent through the atmosphere and then an even shakier landing. The pilot called, “Door opening. Pile out!”

Cold wind and snow blew in as the door hit the ground and the troops began to run out, blasters raised. Hux hoisted his own weapons up and followed them, lingering for the space of a breath to survey the landscape.

The main hangar was open, clearly having been blown in by some kind of artillery; there was still smoke in the air. No heavy weapons were installed at the entrance, but there were personnel inside firing with small arms at the incoming Resistance troops. Hux allowed them to get twenty paces away before he went after them, tucking himself to the left and behind, keeping out of sight.

At the edge of the former hangar door, Hux slipped in and around to where a large stack of crates was piled. He hid behind them while he searched for his target: the door that would take him toward the barracks and training facilities. It was in the upper corner of the room, half blocked by an inert loading droid. There was no one there now, but from the other side of the building ranks of stormtroopers were beginning to pour into the hangar. They met the Resistance fighters in a hail of blaster fire and scattered battle cries. Hux saw troops from each side go down before he turned his attention back to his route. He took a short moment to mourn for the lost—on both sides—before turning back to his mission.

Leaving the crates, he hastened across to where an electric transport vehicle was parked. He slid down behind it, holding his blaster against his shoulder in case he had to fire. Carefully, he raised his head to look out. Six troopers—these in heavier combat gear than the usual white plassteel plating—came out of the door. Hux was directly in their line of sight, even if the main fight was to his right. It was a long shot for such a close-range rifle, but he opened fire on them, picking off the last two and then those in the middle. The lead two ran past him without marking either Hux or their missing companions.

Grinning darkly, Hux skirted the fallen troopers and the droid. He took a last glance at the hangar floor, where the battle was still raging, and then dropped his heavy rifle, drew his sidearm, and went into the corridor.

An alarm was sounding while red lights flashed, but otherwise the passageway was dim and narrow. The ceiling overhead was arched slightly, making the space appear larger than it was. As far as Hux could see, there were no other doors for the first thirty paces. Holding his blaster in his right hand, he jogged down the way toward the first northward turn. He flattened himself against the wall to peer around the corner before he went into the next corridor. Fortunately, there was no one to be seen. He set off again.

The base was utilitarian, fitting for the First Order. There was nothing in the building that wasn’t absolutely necessary, from personnel to equipment to living space. The route Hux needed to take was easy enough to follow, though once he had to duck into a doorway to avoid a group of officers running the way he had come. They were frazzled enough that they didn’t see him, but he had been more than ready to shoot. He wondered, in passing, if they reported to his father. Brendol, who was hiding away while his men died in his stead.

Hux was close now, and his body was humming with adrenaline and intention. He might not have been a very physical trooper, but he knew how to listen to his heartbeat and his nerves, either calming them to focus or using them to charge himself up for whatever he had to face.

At the terminus of long passageway was a staircase set deep into the wall. Hux mounted it, taking the steps two at a time. The second level landing wasn’t much, the only discernible feature a door marked _Commandant_. Hux stopped a few paces from it, studying the area for security measures. There was a camera above the door and on the wall beside it was a biometric scanner. It wouldn’t be easy to bypass that, leaving Hux little choice but to roll the dice and request entry. A small red button had been installed next to the scanner, and Hux pressed and held it for a count of three.

No response came directly, but Hux was certain Brendol was in this room, locked away from the heat of the combat. He glared up into the camera, saying, “Father, I’m afraid your last gambit didn’t rid you of me as you’d hoped. I believe you owe me this audience.”

There was a beat, and then the door slid open to reveal the interior of a sleek study. A transparisteel desk on metallic legs stood at the center of the room, a massive viewport behind it looking down onto the training facilities below. Hux entered and found Brendol Hux standing by an unusually lavish wooden cellaret. It didn’t match the rest of the room in the least, and Hux thought for a moment that he remembered it from their house on Arkanis. But he might have imagined that.

Time had made Brendol fat and grey. His trim belly had stretched into a round one that was barely contained but the fastenings of his uniform. His red hair and beard were chased through with white and there were deep-set lines around his eyes and mouth. He was still alert as ever, though, regarding Hux through cool green eyes.

“Hello, Armitage,” he said. From the cellaret he took a half-empty bottle of liquor. “Would you like a drink?”

Hux was standing just beyond the threshold still, his blaster held tight in his right hand. He could end it just like this, with a single shot, but he hesitated. He said, “I don’t have much of a taste for alcohol, but I’ll take a drink.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Brendol said as he uncorked the bottle and filled two tumblers with the amber liquid. “Troopers aren’t allowed such rations.”

“Clearly the officers are,” Hux said. Colder: “What other things was my brother afforded that I was not? Aside from your name.”

Brendol, glasses in hand, came closer, offering one to Hux. “Surely you don’t hold that against me. You were given a good life.” He took a sip of liquor, unaffected enough to lead Hux to believe that he actually meant what he said.

However, if he was being honest, Hux’s life hadn’t been painful. He was good at what he did and strove for excellence. He had had a purpose as a sharpshooter. There was no denying that he had embraced what he had been given wholeheartedly. Given the choice of being an officer and the trooper he had been, he would have chosen the same path all over again.

“I suppose I was,” he said. “I likely would have been content there, had you not tried to have me killed more than once.” He eyed Brendol over the rim of his glass. “Did I really bring that much shame on you as a by-blow?”

“A man in my position can’t afford to have bastards around to undermine his legitimate children,” Brendol replied. “At first I thought the Program would take care of you, but somehow you made something of yourself. If you were promoted any higher, there might have been questions. I couldn’t let that happen, not when Bren was doing so well.”

He scowled at Hux, menacing. “You had words with him when you _stole_ plans for this base for the Resistance. Tell me, boy, how did they make you turn?”

Hux tasted the liquor, finding it smoother than some of the things Kylo had offered him. “I don’t work for the Resistance,” he said. “My employer does and I retrieved the plans for him.”

Brendol scoffed. “That was quick of you, finding a job right out of the Order. Mercenary band?”

“Smuggling,” Hux replied. “And some aboveboard transport. But it wasn’t something I sought out. He saved my life the night my men turned on me. I likely would have died had he not taken me in. I’m sure you’re very disappointed.”

“You’re hard to kill, I’ll give you that,” said Brendol gruffly. “Some bastards just don’t know when they’re not wanted.” He drank down his liquor in a deep swallow. “If you’re not Resistance, then why are you here?”

Hux stirred his drink around in the tumbler. “Isn’t it clear enough? You want me dead and have proven that you’ll stop at nothing to get what you want. There’s only one way for me to protect myself.”

Brendol barked a laughed. “Oh, you want to kill me? Came across the galaxy to put that blaster to my head?”

“It doesn’t have to go like that,” Hux said, “but that would likely be quickest and the least painful. And it’s clean.”

Setting his tumbler down at the edge of his desk, Brendol moved closer. Hux watched for the slightest hint that he was armed, too—a hitch in his step, a move toward a hidden blade in his sleeve—but there was nothing. It was arrogant to assume he would be so safe in this hideout while the Resistance flooded his base.

“You’ve been a problem since you were whelped,” Brendol growled. “And now you think you can come here and kill me? I have a legacy to uphold and you’re no longer a part of it. It doesn’t end here, like this.”

He flicked his wrist toward a panic button on the desk, but before he could reach it, Hux shot it out from under him. The blaster bolt scorched Brendol’s hand, making him hiss.

Hux stalked toward him, holstering his sidearm as he did. “I don’t care about your legacy. I don’t care about Bren or the First Order or any of it. Not anymore. All I want is to be free of you and then to go back to Kylo.”

“Kylo?” Brendol asked between gritted teeth. He was cradling his wounded hand.

“You don’t deserve to know who he is,” Hux replied.

“Don’t be melodramatic, boy. You—”

The knife flashed out, Hux sinking it between his ribs and into his heart before he could finish speaking. His mouth dropped open, eyes wide with shock and pain. He was frozen there as he took a shaking breath. As he exhaled, his eyes dropped closed and he slumped forward. Hux stepped out of the way and let him fall hard onto his front on the floor. Hux looked down at him there.

Voices and footsteps in the passageway outside the door drew Hux’s attention. Immediately, his hand was on his blaster again. The panic button must have been rigged to trigger if it was destroyed. If Hux counted right, there were about to be at least ten special operations stormtroopers in the room.

He tried to gauge whether he could shoot out the transparisteel and escape that way, but the pane was too thick. And even if he jumped, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t hurt himself on the fall to the first level. There were no side entrances or rooms; the only way in and out was through the main door. Trapped, he drew his blaster. They would likely kill him on sight, but he might be able to take one or two of them with him before he went down. He allowed himself the fear as he lifted the blaster and steadied his hand.

The first trooper who approached the door took a shot to the head and collapsed at the threshold. Another followed quickly on his heels, and Hux had to shoot twice before he fell. The voices outside were raised now.

“We’re here for Commandant Hux,” someone called—a man. “If you release him to us, we’ll take prisoners.”

Hux knew there was no truth to that. “Under no circumstances will he be released,” he said. “This is not a negotiation. Either come in here and take him or get out.”

He was aware that he had the one advantage of a bottleneck. If the troopers tried to come through the door, he could pick them off before they shot at him, but it wouldn’t last if they were clever enough to cover each other’s entrance. He expected they were.

“We don’t want the commandant injured,” the trooper continued. “What do you want in exchange for him?”

Hux cast a glance at his father’s body; he had no proof of life to give. “ _We_ don’t intend to negotiate,” he said, hoping the lie of about the numbers would buy him some extra time. “There’s no way out of this for us and we know it. If we go down, at least we take your precious commandant with us.”

Preparing for an attack, Hux went to the desk and managed to turn it onto its side. He took cover behind it. That would block the first few shots at least. He tried to center himself by seeking out his connection to Kylo, which thrummed with life inside him. Would Kylo feel it when he died, he wondered. He didn’t want that for him: that emptiness of having a bond severed suddenly. He sent his affection and regret through it, hoping it reached him.

“This is your last chance,” called the trooper from outside.

“Come get us,” Hux snarled, prepared to face them all and at least die fighting.

The smoke grenade preceded any troopers. It billowed white smoke around the room, limiting Hux’s view of the door, but also the troopers’ view of him. The first two troopers came in together, opening fire as they charged into the room. Their blaster bolts illuminated the smoke, but behind the desk, Hux was safe for now. He lined up a shot and clipped a trooper, but killed neither. The retaliatory fire was swift and heavy. The transparisteel of the desktop was not military grade and quickly began to crack under the strain of the bolts. Hux had another twenty shots at most before his cover was gone.

More troopers came through, all of them scanning the room for Resistance soldiers. Hux fired, picking one or two off, but it gave his position away and it wasn’t long before the desk groaned and splintered. Hux drew in a long breath and prepared for it to give way. He sent his final thoughts toward Kylo: care tinged with fear.

With a sudden flash, a red blade lit up the white smoke. The troopers who had been facing the desk turned to fire on whatever had just arrived. Hux felt a rush of anger and desperation that didn’t belong to him. From the front of the room came a cry: “Hux!”

Hux was on his feet in seconds, calling back, “Kylo!” He dared to roll out from behind the desk, making his way through the room toward the door. Kylo was standing there with his lightsaber drawn, cutting through the few troopers who still opposed him. He blocked blaster bolts with his saber or stopped them with the Force and sent them careening back at the troopers who had fired them. One bolt caught a man in the neck and, burbling, he fell to the ground. Hux stepped aimed at the last trooper and fired, hitting him in the back.

“Hux,” Kylo said, retracting the blade of his saber and coming to him. He pulled Hux into his arms and held him tight to his chest. Hux leaned into him, hands fisted in his shirt. Their mutual relief flooded Hux’s mind.

“How did you find me?” Hux asked, muffled against Kylo’s neck.

“Through the bond,” Kylo replied as he stroked Hux’s back. “I told you I could sense you anywhere. Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine.” He turned his face up so he could see Kylo. “Shouldn’t you be with your uncle and Rey?”

“It’s over,” Kylo said. “Snoke’s dead.” His gaze flicked toward the door to Brendol’s office. “Your father?”

“Gone,” said Hux.

Kylo sighed, taking Hux’s face between his hands and kissing his brow. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I wouldn’t be, if not for you,” Hux said. “They would have killed me handily.”

“Don’t think about it,” Kylo bid him. “We’re okay, now.” Moving in, he kissed Hux’s mouth, and Hux went into it hungrily. They held each other there in the midst of the slaughter around them: the fallen bodies, the desperate fight in the hangars, plasma cannons beyond the base—improbably, they were here in each other’s arms, alive.

“What do we do now?” Hux asked when they parted. “Surely there’s still a fight on.”

“Not for much longer,” Kylo replied. “Snoke is gone and the Order here will crumble without him. We can go. Luke and Rey...I think they’re waiting for us on their ship.”

There was no guilt in Hux for leaving the Resistance to fend for itself. He had done what he came here to do, as had Kylo.

“Then let’s go,” Hux said.

Together, they went down the stairs to the ground level and made their way through unfamiliar corridors. It seemed Kylo knew his way, though, so Hux followed without question. The sirens and lights had been shut off, which suggested the Resistance had reached the command center.

When they came upon a service passage, Kylo ushered Hux through first. Outside in the snow-swept landscape was Luke and Rey’s ship. The engines were hot and the side door open. Luke stood there, beckoning them inside. Hux stepped in and then Kylo, and the door slid shut behind them.

“Rey,” Luke called. “They’re here.”

The ship lifted off the ground and began its ascent. Luke produced two bottles of water and handed them Hux and Kylo. Hux accepted his gratefully and drank half down in a few quick gulps.

“Where are we going?” Hux asked, blinking at Luke.

“To rendezvous with Leia’s destroyer,” Luke replied. He offered a small smile. “We’ve won. The base is in our hands and the First Order’s armada is destroyed. At least the ships that were here.”

Kylo wrapped his arms around Hux’s waist from behind, setting his chin on his shoulder. Their relief was shared through the Force.


	14. Epilogue

The _Arrow_ ’s climate controls kept the vessel blessedly cool as compared to the heat and humidity of D’Qar. Hux was sitting at the table in the lounge cleaning his blaster. He had a bottle of juice there, too. Kylo was in a briefing with Leia and the high command of the Resistance. They were planning their next moves against the remnants of the First Order now that Snoke had fallen. They still had Starkiller base in their control, but they planned to destroy it at the first available opportunity; their engineers were just working on how exactly to so.

Five days had passed since the assault on the base and Hux had spent them mostly in the hut in Sector 12, laid out in bed with Kylo. After they had docked with Leia’s destroyer in the Unknown Regions and debriefed, she had released them to go back to D’Qar and recuperate. Luke and Rey were still on-planet, too, but they had been more closely involved with high command than Hux was. He had no intention of attending a meeting again; he didn’t work for them.

“Hey.”

He glanced up from cleaning to see Kylo coming into the lounge. His hair was pulled up into the half-tail he usually wore, some still hanging at his neck. He was dressed casually (like his father, Leia would likely have said). Hux was glad to be back in his clothes from Tyrish’s rather than Resistance-issue fatigues.

“Hello,” Hux said, putting down the blaster barrel and oiled brush he had been using. “Finished with your meeting?”

“Yes,” said Kylo. “I’ve got my orders for the next few weeks.”

Hux frowned. He had hoped that they wouldn’t be taking any Resistance jobs for a while and could return to Kylo’s transport business. They had agreed that Hux would stay on the Ryden 2 station when Kylo had work for his mother.

“Don’t look like that,” Kylo laughed. “I was told that I’ll be off the hook for now. We’ve got all the time we want to lie around the station.” Grinning, he came over to Hux and brushed his left hand over Hux’s hair. “We need the break.”

“I agree,” said Hux. “Do we leave soon?”

“Whenever you want,” Kylo replied.

Hux patted the seat beside him, inviting Kylo to sit. He did, putting an arm around Hux’s shoulders.

“Do you know what’s going to happen to Phasma and Finn?” Hux asked.

“Phasma’s taking off,” Kylo said. “She’s getting supplies and credits and being turned loose. Finn...well, he wants to stay where Poe is.”

Hux raised his brows. “They’re starting an affair after so short a time?”

Kylo winked at him. “You can’t really fault them, looking at us.”

“Fair enough,” Hux conceded. “What of Luke and Rey?”

“They’re going back to their own business, but they’ll be around if Mom needs them. Luke’s going to make Rey a master soon. She deserves it.”

Kylo had told Hux all about their fight with Snoke and how Luke and Rey had lent him their strength to defeat him. It was a remarkable feat, even if Hux didn’t completely grasp the intricacies of the Force. In turn, Hux had recounted his father’s death.

“Do you feel free?” Kylo had asked him after the story was done.

Hux had nodded. “Of many things: family, the Order. You gave me that.”

“I’m lucky to have you,” Kylo had said, and then he had pulled Hux to him and they had made love yet again.

“That’s good,” Hux said, talking of Rey. “I hope we might see them again someday.”

“We probably will,” said Kylo. “Not anytime soon, but someday.” He tapped his fingers against Hux’s upper arm. “We might see my father a little sooner. He commed to say he’s got a job for us. Not Resistance work, just regular work. Well, regular for him, anyway.”

Hux chuckled. “I look forward to seeing him, though I have a feeling he’s going to be very smug about our being together. He implied before that there was more between us than we were letting on.”

“Mm,” Kylo grumbled. “He probably will, the old bastard. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I think I should be telling _you_ that,” said Hux.

Kylo wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Yeah, all right. I’ll give you that.” He gave Hux a quick peck on the lips. “You want to get going? Come up front and I’ll let you take off.”

They sat side-by-side in the cockpit, Hux holding the yoke.

Kylo set a course for the Ryden system. “You’re in charge,” he said to Hux. “Take us home.”

Hux engaged the engines and guided them up and away from D’Qar, into whatever could come for them, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming on this journey with us!

**Author's Note:**

> Littleststarfighter is on [tumblr here](http://littleststarfighter.tumblr.com/) if you have questions about the AU.
> 
> And Gefionne is on [tumblr here](http://gefionne.tumblr.com/).


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